Sunfall
by Tavina
Summary: "What makes an Uchiha, Madara-sama?" She asks him, green eyes flashing. "Is it their famous red eyes?" In which Uchiha Madara...gains and loses the entire world, but maybe he didn't need it anyway. One sided MadaHashi/Not really one sided/It's very complicated. HashiMito. And semi-Madara x OC. It's really very complicated. Warring Clans Era. Companion to Moonrise.
1. Island Daughter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

At times, I imagine you are Atlas,

Crushed beneath the weight

Of the heavens you were cursed to hold.

-(p.d)

* * *

He doesn't want to be here. Not really. The sea air smells like salt and brine and it is pungent and sharp, cutting. He doesn't enjoy it. Nor does he enjoy the sound of gulls overhead, the sharp crash of water onto the sand and the rocks, the low droning sound of a storm off of the coast. It is a strange and inhospitable landscape, far from the forests that he calls home.

He can concede that there is a wild beauty to it, the clear blue water mirrors the blue of the sky, but he does not have to enjoy it.

"Niisan." Izuna says, from his side. "We're close aren't we?"

He shifts on his feet. "Yes." They are indeed, close to Uzushiogakure.

"Then we should go across?" Izuna asks.

Uchiha Madara sighs. "No." The whirlpools around Uzu are notoriously difficult to predict or control. He would not dare risk it, not when Izuna couldn't even _see_ the whirlpools much less know where to step ahead of time.

"Then why did we travel all this way? If you aren't going to meet your bride, what's the point?" Izuna is still standing blankly, facing the sea, and the crashing of waves.

And that is the eternal question isn't it. Why did Uzumaki Ashina contact him with a marriage offer? And why did he decide that traveling to Uzu would be a good idea?

Uzumaki Kanae. He turns the idea over in his mind. The younger daughter of Uzumaki Ashina. The younger sister of Hashirama's prospective bride.

And here his thoughts again, turn bitter. Must it always be a comparison between him and Hashirama? But he is here nonetheless. Here because the clan demands heirs, and the Uzumaki are a powerful clan, with powerful skills.

Below them, on the sand, a young woman drags herself out of the waves, and stands there, barefoot, wringing out her long red hair, a length of rope tied about her waist.

Madara sets a hand on his brother's elbow, and guides him down to the beach. "Do you know how we might find passage to Uzu?" He assumes that she is from Uzu, assumes it by the length of her red hair, by the way her clothing is ill suited to fighting. A light blue half length kimono and knee length leggings are not war clothes after all, and she didn't even wear arm guards.

This is still a dangerous length of coast.

She dresses like a civilian.

She turns pale green eyes up to him, and blinks calmly. "Perhaps." She examines the two of them with care. "And who are you two?"

His free hand clenches slightly. "Not your business." He wants passage, not discussion.

She shrugs calmly. "If you insist." She bends, and gathers a length of rope in her hands, pulling closely, and a very small boat breaks the surface, its hull gleaming dully in the weak morning glow. She hums as she dances back into the shallows to drag it onto the beach.

"Niisan." Inzuna says at last, after another ten minutes of this. "Stop being like this." He turns towards the direction of her humming. "Miss? I'll tell you who we are."

She turns back to his younger brother, jade green eyes dancing, a small smile on her lips. "Oh. So you must be the reasonable one." She giggles, and it echoes sharply over the rocks and the sound of the waves. "I know who you are, Uchiha-san."

"Then you must be?" Izuna comes to crouch beside her, even though he can't see much of anything.

She flips the rope over her shoulder, and scours the bottom of the hull carefully with a handful of sand. "You can call me Shiko." At Izuna's raised eyebrow, she clarifies. "It's short for Arashiko."

"Little Storm." Madara says at last. So this girl is an Uzumaki then or at least, affiliated with the village that he is to enter.

She shrugs. "Yes. It is what Chichi calls me."

"We're here to see Uzumaki Ashina-dono." Izuna says cheerfully, his voice deceptively light. "Do you know him?"

The girl shrugs again, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I can't really say." She flips the boat over. "Can anyone be said to really know anyone else?"

"I assumed you were from Uzu, Arashiko-san." His brother's still speaking to her, but Madara's getting a little impatient.

They are too visible like this, on this bare strip of sand, between the sea and the sky. "Can you take us to Uzu?"

She shoves the boat back into the shallows, right side up. "Get in the boat, Uchiha-san." The boat will fit two.

He doesn't want to get in, doesn't want to trust this dingy boat and this half wild girl-child, but she raises one finely arched eyebrow at him, as though skeptical of his understanding of the world, and he steps in. _You won't find me weak._

Izuna fumbles slightly, but Madara offers him a hand, guiding him over the ledge.

"Uchiha-san?" The girl leans closer to Izuna, a hand raised towards the black band of cloth over his eyes. "Are you?"

"Blind, yes." Izuna smiles politely. It's a sore point, sore indeed for the both of them, given that his eyes are in Madara's head, but the girl doesn't mention it again. Instead, she turns away without saying another word.

"How," Madara interrupts the silence for a moment. "Are you planning on getting across the sea?"

She laughs, and it sounds like gulls and the crash of waves. "How do you think I got here, Uchiha-san?"

She takes a running leap at the water, the rope still wrapped around her waist, and the boat shudders out to sea.

In the deep blue of the water, all he can see is the bloody streaks of her red hair beneath the surface, as they skim over the top of the waves.

* * *

They'd passed around the storm still rumbling off the coast, and another coastline is in sight.

She takes the boat straight to the rocks, and disentangles herself from the rope casually. There are no people there to greet them.

She shakes out her hair, and bends down to twist it into a single bun over her head. "Come along, Uchiha-san." She says, something like amusement twisting through her voice. "We shall go and see my Chichi, yes?"

And suddenly every piece clicks into place. "You are Uzumaki Kanae." He says flatly.

And his venture here, to this strange land, with these strange people is even more outlandish.

Uzumaki Kanae is not beautiful, or demure. There is something about her that seems too sharp, as if the artist had used up all of his color on her hair and eyes. It leaves the rest of her pale and faded, her chin pointed, and lips thin.

She is small and slight, and her cheekbones are sharp enough to cut stone on.

She looks like one good gust would blow her over.

Uzumaki Kanae looks like nothing more than an ungainly girl-child.

"Yes." She says, looking up at his eyes without a hint of fear. "And you are Uchiha Madara."

"But you said that you were Arashiko." He can hear the frustration in his brother's voice. "And now you acknowledge that you are Uzumaki Kanae?"

"Chichi calls me Arashiko." She says and walks on, towards the houses that seem to rise out of the earth, slope roofed, painted in brilliant, bright colors. "I did not lie to you, Uchiha-san."

The streets are bogged with spring mud, and Uzumaki Kanae sets a small hand on Izuna's elbow to steer him clear of puddles. "My apologies, Uchiha-san." She says, with little fanfare. "It has been a snowy winter. The streets are not yet packed well."

Madara is more interested in the way the houses seem close together, a permanent sort of residence.

He wants Konoha to look similar in ten or twenty years. There are children racing through the streets, elderly men and women sitting out on stooped porches. The roofs are shingled, the businesses prosperous.

It is a peaceful sort of place then, this Uzushiogakure.

It is unlike the warzone that he'd left behind.

His greatest dream is to build a place that looks like this.

"And here we are." She offers, sliding the screen door aside, and stepping into a courtyard.

"Kanae!" An elderly woman moves towards them, her age doing nothing to slow her steps. "I told you that today was the big day! How could you go running off-"

"Obaa-san." Uzumaki Kanae says, long sufferingly, he likes to think. "They are here already. And they would have left if I didn't head out to greet them this morning."

It is only then that the older woman looks up at them. Her green eyes are no less sharp than her granddaughter's, he notes almost absently.

Somehow, this bleak, barren landscape encapsulates immortality.

The people here weather, but time seems as slow as molasses. He'd never seen quite so many elderly men and women in his life, but here, in Uzu, they seem so _normal_.

A commonplace occurrence then. It makes him uneasy.

"You're Uchiha Madara, then?" The elderly woman asks, a hand on her hip. "Hmmph." She turns back to her granddaughter. "Well, what are you waiting for? Ashina-kun is waiting to see them."

Kanae hids a smile behind her hand. "Of course, Obaa-san. I shall bring them to Chichi directly." She does not mention that they would probably have already arrived before Uzumaki Ashina had they not been stopped.

"How old is your grandmother?" He asks as they walk. The woman had looked no more than fifty, fifty-five, perhaps if he is being generous.

"She is seventy seven this year." She replies, as if she'd not shattered his entire worldview.

"Seventy-seven?" Izuna asks, unable to hide the tremor of surprise. "That is a great age indeed."

She muffles a giggle. "Tanaka-san is the oldest person on the Island, and he is a hundred and thirty-eight this year. Obaa-san's young compared to him." She glances over at Madara, curious. "And how old are you?"

"Twenty-four." He replies, and says nothing more. _A hundred and thirty-eight._ He cannot even possibly conceive of a person being that old. It is beyond fathoming, how one would live to such- _But they have no war here._ A treacherous part of his mind whispers. _It is possible to simply keep on living._

"Do you not fear being...attacked?" Izuna asks, his voice nothing above a whisper, but it is shaking with _something._ Something like awe.

"By Tanaka-san?" She tilts her head back, and laughs as she pushes open another door. "He might be an old grump, but he's not in the habit of attacking his clan head's children." She slides over the wooden floorboards, still barefooted, and down the long hall. "Chichi!" She calls, freely, laughingly, as if there's no respect she must offer, to her clan head, and to her father. "The Uchiha are here."

The man behind the tea table is again, strangely young-looking, but Madara's learned better than to assume his age by his appearance. "Uchiha-dono." He murmurs, dark eyes flashing. "And your brother, do sit."

Madara carefully guides Izuna towards the tatami mats. He inclines his head to towards the seated man respectfully. "Uzumaki-dono."

Uzumaki Kanae fades towards the door, but Uzumaki-dono evidently has remembered that his daughter ought to be more presentable. "Arashiko." He murmurs, a heavy frown on his lips. "Where are you going?"

The girl blinks once. "Pearl diving, Chichi." She turns, long hair falling like a curtain over her shoulder. "It might be the last time I ever enjoy the activity." Her words are resigned, nothing more. "After all, there are no oceans in Fire Country."

And then she vanishes out the door.

"My apologies, Uchiha-dono." Uzumaki-dono sighs. "She is young still."

"Yes." Madara replies. "She is _young._ " Younger than he expected, when the missive had arrived, asking that he consider Uzumaki Ashina's younger daughter.

"If she were any older, she would not be willing to leave with you." A pale pink eyebrow rises. "And I assume you have no desire to live among us."

The man speaks as if he has already accepted the marriage offer. He has not.

And he has less and less intention to.

Hashirama had thought it a good plan. _Then we'll really be brothers, you know?_ A blinding smile, a nudge towards a response.

He did not want to be Senju Hashirama's brother. He wants-well, it matters little what he wants. _The clan wants its heirs._

"I have no intention to accept." He says, and that is a bad thing to say, but Uzumaki-dono merely smiles.

"Then why, if you have no intention to court Kanae, are you sitting before me?"

And isn't that the million ryo question? Why is he here, if he has less and less intention of marrying the girl?

"Forgive my brother." Izuna raises a hand, and gently feels around the table for the teacup. "Of course, he doesn't mean that." His elbow jabs Madara in the thigh.

It's clearly visible to Uzumaki-dono, but Izuna doesn't know that.

For not the first time today, Uchiha Madara wonders if he should have just left his younger brother at home.

The answer is still no.

* * *

"Well." Uzumaki-dono rises at the end of their conversation. "I will let you rest before the festivities tonight." He straightens the collar of his haori. "I suggest you speak to Kanae before she leaves with you."

He understands now, why the Uzumaki offered.

Uzumaki Ashina does not want to offer him his younger daughter. Not truly. It is clear in his every action, that he doesn't want to. This is a man who has already given up one daughter, and his actions state that Uzumaki Kanae is his adored youngest child, his 'little storm.'

It is also clear, that despite the peace in Uzushio, it is a fragile one indeed. _They have little agricultural capacity here._

 _It has left them with persistent rice shortages._

And Uzumaki Kanae's sharp lines and faded edges makes so much _sense._

Her face had been angular, and pointed. He had not thought hollow, had not thought perhaps, hungry, but he should have.

He's seen plenty of hungry children. He did not think that Uzushio, this timeless and barren land would house more of them.

He'd thought that peace would solve the world's ills, and yet-

And now Uzumaki Ashina, the most powerful man in Uzu is willing to trade him a child to feed Uzu itself.

"Niisan?" Izuna asks from next to the desk in their suit of rooms. "Have you come to a decision yet?"

And curse him. "No." Madara says, flatly, and turns to slide open the door. The rice paper over the windows is double layered. The wood is dark, and lacquered. The vases are delicate, molded with swirling patterns.

There is a strange array of seals painted onto the floorboards, which are smooth and polished.

The sheets on the beds are crisp, and the whitest he's ever seen outside of a noble compound.

Everything about this set of rooms screamed opulence.

It is hard to imagine that amidst all of this the entire island is starving.

The door opens onto a smooth path, hewed out of the stone itself, and far away, they can hear the sound of the gulls, and the waves.

"Wait here for me." He says to Izuna, though he is loathed to leave his brother. _They will not harm him._

 _They still need my answer._ It does not settle the unease in his heart, but this is a village. This is an honest to goodness peaceful village.

He wants to see how it runs.

* * *

He is an oddity here. Not because of his dark hair, but because he is still wearing heavy armor. The children that run about, laughing in the streets wear little more than half length kimono or haori. They show no fear at the sight of an approaching stranger.

But they also do not greet him.

There is no tension in the air, no person on edge.

The stone mason keeps carving his blocks, red hair pulled messily up in a hightail. The old man mending nets in the morning sun doesn't raise his head when Madara passes.

A teenage laundress glances at him curiously before turning back to her work.

In the schoolyard, an middle aged man with a high forehead lectures a pair of misbehaving children.

Everything about this place sets him ill at ease.

He tells himself that he is looking at the village design, looking at the structures of daily life, finding housing plans for Hashirama to copy when he finally returns to Konoha, but he wanders out towards the sea instead.

The shore on this side of the Island is rocky, and he glances briefly at the shallow pools of water between the stones as he passes them.

There are shells, seaweed swaying gently with the pounding of the waves. An eight legged creature scuttles out of his sight when he stands too close.

For the second time that morning, Uzumaki Kanae breaks the bleak nature of the landscape before him. The first thing that he notes off in the distance, is the red of her hair.

She's sitting on the rocks. He does not have to go. She hasn't looked up. He can pretend that he did not see her. She can do the same of him. He travels towards her, as if pulled by the tide.

She is humming some ditty or other that he is unfamiliar with, but can hear indistinctly over the sound of the sloshing water.

"You are far from your residence, Uchiha-san." She observes when he stops a few feet from her, pulling a handful of shells from a bucket.

She pries one of them open with a curved single bladed knife and hisses with disgust. "Useless again." She tosses into a second bucket, which is filled with broken shells and slimy innards.

"And you are?" He crouches down beside her.

The air reeks of the sea, of brine, of something pungent beneath the surface.

He's never liked fish, but these shells smell very badly indeed. He's not quite sure what she is doing, prying them open. Her hands are covered with the slime, and the loose, dirty liquid from the shells stain her arms up to her elbows.

"Harvesting pearls." She replies, pulling another shell from the bucket, and gutting it smoothly with the knife. "It's a thankless task." Once again, she tosses it into the discard bucket.

"I have decided." He says all at once. "You will be...going with me when I leave." Izuna would not be applauding his tact. He was supposed to say that he wishes, although that is not the right word, would never be the right- _Hashirama._ He thinks. _Why did you choose a woman from here?-_ to court her.

She raises one red, red, brow at him. "You have decided?" She murmurs. "I didn't know you had a choice."

He narrows his eyes. "I had a choice." He replies, brusque. Clipped.

He had no choice. Hashirama would have been disappointed. The clan would attempt to find him someone else. He would leave those happy children behind to starve.

He ignores the voice that tells him Hashirama will not let those children starve.

They are after all, kin of _his_ wife.

"Well, then." Her voice is deceptively mild. "You must call me Kanae then, Madara... _sama,_ if we are to learn to live with each other." She rolls his name over her tongue like it is a strange, foreign object that ill suits her lyrical interpretation of the world.

Perhaps it is.

"Learn to live with each other?" He sits down on the rock beside her. "What is there to learn?"

He has decided that he will-marry. As far as he is aware, the district will be big enough that there will be no need to speak consistently afterwards. "You will be an Uchiha. That is all." And this will be a marriage of clans.

"What makes an Uchiha, Madara-sama?" She asks him, green eyes flashing. "Is it their famous red eyes?" Her eyes are following his every move, so much more disconcerting than any of his relatives.

He grunts, but says nothing.

"What does an Uchiha woman pride herself in?" She's contemplative now, red hair spilling over a shoulder, tapping her fingers against her thigh. The shells are forgotten. "Does she fight beside her men?"

Her half length kimono and knee length black shorts seem to be mocking him. It's not appropriate to show so much skin, but this seems to be normal here. Children, young men, young women, they went barefoot, without floor length robes.

It's clearly not _meant_ to be distracting. His eyes trail up over her wrist and down the length of her leg. He reminds himself that he ought to be looking at her face.

"You will not be fighting." He replies. "An Uchiha woman does not fight." _Good God._ Talking to this girl-child hurts his soul.

He does not think why this is so. He does not remind himself that Uzumaki Kanae is a young woman, not a girl.

"Well, that's nice." Her tone as she examines her cuticles implies that this idea is anything but nice. "I do not much fancy being an Uchiha after all."

He is about to open his mouth and tell her exactly what he thinks of that statement, but she's flipped her knife into the air, watches as it spins lazily glistening in the morning sun, before catching it, the blade between two fingers. "I understand though, that I have no choice in this matter." _Unlike you._ Her words seem to imply. "So you will have to tell me about yourself."

Uchiha Madara closes his eyes, and prays quietly that his life might still find some small resemblance to peace after this. "No."

"No?" She pries open another of those foul smelling shells, and cards her fingers through the innards as if that would transform them from gray goop to an iridescent gem. "Well, I shall tell you about me then." She continues on, in a rather meandering tone. "My name is Kanae. I enjoy the color blue. In my spare time, I am a seamstress."

This is such a mundane list of facts that it makes him regret ever coming to speak to her.

"-have any dreams, Madara-sama?"

He blinks. "Hn."

She swings her feet back and forth, leaning back on both her hands as she stares out into the foaming gray waves. "You have to have some sort of dream." She says, quiet, gently assured.

 _Hokage. Peace. Hash-_ His thoughts come to a grinding halt. "That is no business of yours."

"I thought maybe," She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and she doesn't look at him. Her head's bent over the shells again, knife flashing quickly through the sequence of motions. "That one of us could have a dream." For a long pause, all the sound he hears is the clatter of broken shells as she tosses them, one by one, into the discarded bucket. "One dream that doesn't die."

Despite her chatter, he knows nothing about her really. "And what is to say," he says, after a moment's thought "That the dream won't be yours?"

She picks the last shell out of the bucket. "I will be leaving with you." She says, and her knife pauses without prying it open. "And afterwards, I will have no dreams." She pulls the two halves open, and digs something out. "After all," She smiles at him, and it's mocking and rueful. "An Uchiha woman does not fight." She dips her hand in the water, and swirls it around, rinsing the grime away.

It's a strange dream to have. _What does she have to fight for?_ But he hasn't really the time to wonder. She offers him the pearl. "Welcome to Uzushio, Madara-sama."

It is brilliantly red, as bloody as her hair.

But the most ironic part of this whole thing is that it is shaped like a teardrop.

For the first time since he can remember, he throws his head back and laughs until his lungs are drowning, until he feels the stitch in his side. _What are the chances?_

* * *

 **A.N.** This, is somehow, a rabid plot bunny that will not leave me alone. The basic premise is that the Uzumaki have the bright idea of marrying their clan head's younger daughter off to Madara after they marry Mito to Hashirama. Of course, then Madara sat up in the back of my head and demanded that this be written in his point of view rather than Kanae's so...

At any rate, the timeline, since Kishimoto is eugh on timelines, is nonexistent. I've wreaked the canon timeline already. Izuna is alive. Konoha is a thing. I know in canon those two did not exist simultaneously. That and there's a surprising lack of Warring Clans fanfictions that do not involve time travel.

I'm just hoping that by writing this, I can somehow exorcise the thing for a bit while getting back to the next chapter of Bloodless.

~Tavina


	2. Blood Sun

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and my interpretation of Madara is _weird._**

* * *

We are made from all those who have built and broken us.

-Atticus

* * *

He considers removing his armor when he returns back to his set of rooms, but the door is ajar, and the thought flies out of his head in an instant. His eyes bleed red.

His heart is a caged bird batting its wings against an icy prison.

He'd left Izuna alone in their rooms. He'd thought it was safe. _Stupid. Nothing is ever sa-_

"It is our fault." It's a man's voice speaking, somewhat embarrassed, a little rueful. "We forgot that you wouldn't be able to see the sealing array for these sorts of things, which is really wrong of us, you know?"

It doesn't sound dangerous, but plenty of things don't sound dangerous.

He bursts into the room, and his heartbeat doesn't slow. "Izuna!" He barks. "Step away."

The man who turns towards him, the stranger, has long red hair tied back haphazardly and hazel eyes that veer more towards green. "Oh, you must be our other guest." He meets Madara's eyes with a tilt of his head, an acknowledgement of the active sharingan flickering in the depths of his own eyes, but nothing more. "I was explaining the sealing array to your brother."

"Step away." Madara growls, even as he pulls Izuna away from the man with a single hand, pushing his brother behind him.

"Niisan!" Izuna hisses at him. "Uzumaki-san was being very nice about everything." And Izuna has kind words for these people, but Madara himself trusts none of them, just as he doesn't trust the sea, just as he doesn't trust Uzumaki Kanae's pale green eyes.

"That could be a lie." He mutters aloud, loud enough that Uzumaki-san can hear them.

There are a hundred ways that this can go wrong, and none at all that it can go right, but the man merely smiles, and it's bright and luminous in all the wrong ways. Hashirama on occasion, smiles like this, but never in the face of a stranger who can take his face off.

"No need to be so unfriendly, Uchiha-dono." He rubs the back of his neck with a hand. "You're marrying my sister, after all." He offers Madara his other hand. "The name's Uzumaki Korui."

Marrying his sister-this is one of Uzumaki Ashina's sons. This young man is related to Uzumaki Kanae, she of the unfortunate eyes.

"You are related to Uzumaki-dono." He says, voice flat. He wants nothing to do with this strange and friendly young man.

Friendly people hide the most vicious masks.

He wants nothing to do with Uzu.

This strangely eternal, yet decaying village with its red-haired girls who looked at him with ghost green eyes as if she could see right through him, and children that seemed unusually buoyant and young men that are at once friendly and generous. This village that is starving, crumbling from the inside out.

Madara does not touch his hand.

"Ahaha." Uzumaki Korui gestures to the sealing array behind them. "I'm his second eldest son, and heir. That's why I'm here to explain..."

"Your eldest brother is...dead, then?" Izuna asks hesitantly, carefully, as if the wound might be too much to poke just yet. There really isn't a timeframe for how long ago the eldest son died. It is difficult to bury a brother, yet he speaks of it casually enough. A person should never speak of these things.

It is just another oddity, another confusing point about these people.

"No." Uzumaki Korui blinks, as though seriously confused. "Kyoya-niisama is very much alive. It's just...you know, he's Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya, not Uzumaki Kyoya."

And that is very strange indeed, but Korui-san has no further words to comment about his elder brother, who is at once a contradiction, and clearly a bastard.

No young man would share a different surname than his father, and eschew his birthright without being a bastard.

But no young man who is a bastard, would ever be spoken of in the hushed, reverential tones that Uzumaki Korui spoke of his bastard elder brother either.

 _The all of them are crazy._ Madara decides at last.

"What were you explaining?" He doesn't trust Izuna with these people, doesn't trust them, but at least asking for the explanation can give the impression that he trusts them.

"You see, the air can get very cold at night still." Uzumaki Korui kneels down beside the intricate sealing array, running a fond hand down its length. "So this part," he taps the leftmost section. "Is the one that allows you to heat the rooms at night, since we don't have a fireplace. All you need to do is add a bit of chakra for it to work, since that's already written into the matrix." His hand moves over to the right. "And this is where you would place your basin, if you want to heat the water, and this one" His hand moves down. "This is if you'd like to contact anyone..." He trails off. "I suppose there's no one on the island you really want to talk to, and that's a fair bit more complicated." He laughs brightly. "If you want anyone, just stick your head out the door and shout, no need to be formal."

The strange young man straightens. "I'll be off then."

"You didn't say what the top part does." A sealing array that has more than one function? A sealing array that's keyed to people? He'd mentioned communication, but he had not said why. And the red section of the seal has not even been touched.

"Oh, you don't want that at all." Uzumaki Korui shrugs. "It's nothing for you to worry about, you'll be gone in a couple of weeks anyway." He doesn't pause again. "Just don't touch that, you know."

And then Madara and Izuna are very much alone in the room.

"Niisan?" Izuna asks, leaning forward, a tentative hand grasping at the air before him. "How did your talk with Kanae-san go?"

And curse him. _He knows._ Madara unclenches his fist, and drops the pearl into his brother's outstretched hand. "I received a gift." He mutters.

And when he speaks of it that way, it's quite clear that he also ought to have brought a gift. He knows exactly why he didn't bring anything.

"You should give her something." Izuna remarks, casually, as if he expected this all along. "You might not like this very much, but we do need a Lady Uchiha." And yes, that's right, that's right as well, but-

"Have you seen her?" _Nothing more than a child. She's younger than you, Izuna._

Izuna huffs, and his hand rises to touch the black band over his eyes. "No, Niisan." He says very clearly. "I have not _seen_ Kanae-san." _I wonder why, Niisan. Is it because you were supposed to be seeing her with my eyes?_

 _Niisan, why are you being so dumb about all this?_

The words unspoken make him sicker than anything Izuna could possibly say about all of this. "I didn't-didn't-"

"Hush, Niisan." Izuna says and sits down on the floor, crossing his legs as he does. "I know you didn't mean it." And that is just like Izuna really. Easy forgiveness towards people who did not deserve forgiveness. "And from what I understand, there is nothing particularly ugly about Kanae-san." Izuna says, unconcerned and unknowing of the direction of Madara's thoughts.

His eyes still burn, and nothing will make it go away.

Izuna reaches out for his pack, and rummages about, moving carefully, as if there's something sharp there, that could be of use.

Madara doesn't know why he would bother. There's nothing in there to be used as a present, he knows this because he's the one that packed the bag.

But then Izuna pulls out a hairpin, it is silver set with a single ruby, and it is the last beautiful thing their mother ever owned, and he had thought it lost in the rubble, lost in the move, and here Izuna is, holding it up to him. "Give her this, Niisan."

"No." Madara says, and wishes he could unsee the image. "Uzumaki Kanae doesn't need a hairpin."

Izuna tilts his head up, unerringly to face Madara. "Why do you dislike Kanae-san, Niisan? She seems nice enough."

And it's not anything that Uzumaki Kanae has done, it's not anything that she will do, it is that her eyes aren't brown, her hair isn't dark, she doesn't smile, she's not Hashi-

"She's a little girl." He snaps, and wishes that he could take that back. It's not what he means, but it's exactly what he means all at once.

"She sounded old enough to be married." Izuna observes, carefully wrapping the hairpin back inside a piece of cloth. "And that makes her a young woman, not a little girl." He sighs. "Tell me the truth Niisan. Why do you dislike her so?"

And they sit in silence.

There are no words to describe, no words that he'd want to give voice to.

* * *

At sundown, they go down to 'festivities' dressed in their best robes, though the lack of armor makes Madara feel nauseous.

The people of Uzu are dressed for color, for vibrance, and the crowd in the village square is loud and wild. Children run about dressed in blue, red, green, violet, orange, sun yellow, any color at all, as long as it speaks loudly.

And there are shoes for the occasion.

"Oi!" Another young man with red hair pats him on the back as he passes. "You must be Madara." He's got a face splitting smile, and wicked dark eyes. "Hope you're alright, or Little Kanae'll skin you in your sleep."

Madara tiredly concludes that this must be another of Uzumaki Kanae's brothers. "How many of you are there?" He asks.

The young man frowns slightly. "How many of what?"

"Brothers." He spits back. "How many brothers does your sister have?"

 _How many children can a man like Uzumaki Ashina afford to raise?_

"Oh, that." The young man pauses, and starts listing names on a hand, calmly. "There's Korui-niisan, Masato-niisan, and of course, Mito-neesan, and then there's me and then there's Aruta." _Does the man actually want his family to starve? Why did he have so many children?_ He ignores the fact that he himself is a child of five.

There is only Izuna and himself. There has only ever been- _you know that's false, Niisan-_ Izuna and himself.

"And Kyoya-san?" Izuna asks from beside him. "Is he not also your brother? Also, who are you?"

"I'm Ashiro." Uzumaki Ashiro flips his hair out of his face and leans in a little closer "And we don't like talking too much about Kyoya-niisama unless it's clear that Haha-ue won't hear about it."

So the Lady Uzumaki doesn't care to hear about her husband's eldest son.

But then Uzumaki Ashiro melts back into the boisterous crowd, into a sea of people with hair in every shade of red.

Not all shades look like blood, some look more orange, some are darker, and some aren't even red.

The vibrance hurts his eyes. "Niisan?" Izuna sounds impatient now. "Shouldn't we be meeting Kanae-san now?"

"There you are!" Madara blinks once, and finds that the impossibly aged woman that he'd met earlier that day before him. "You must come with me." She makes to take him by the wrist, but Madara turns avoiding her fingers, but just barely.

Her hands are stained and scarred, and he doesn't want to know where they came from after living on an island so peaceful.

She takes Izuna by the elbow instead, and pulls him along. "Come along, both of you, there's a lot we have to do."

And Madara cannot raise a hand against her. He doubts killing his wife's grandmother would be the best way to start their existence in each other's presence.

He doubts it really matters. "-and my granddaughter is tempermental at times. A young woman prone to melodrama. You must remember to take care of her, Uchiha."

He feels his headache get worse, but Izuna nods along. "I'm sure Kanae-san will be welcome in her own home." Madara wants nothing more than to go away, but he's escorted to a dais, again across from Uzumaki-dono who is dressed in his most opulent garb, and a woman with stunning blood red hair, and painted lips.

She dips into a slight bow as they arrive, strings upon strings of black pearls clattering against each other as she does so. "Welcome, Uchiha-sama." She murmurs. The Lady Uzumaki wears green, with the symbol of her clan stitched over her kimono in layered patterns.

"The festivities are about to begin." Uzumaki-dono pours them each a cup of sake, and slides it over the stone table. "You're just in time."

The elderly sit about at tables of their own to the right and left of the dais, but down below, the young people arrange themselves in two concentric circles around the growing bonfire. He cannot tell exactly what it is that they are burning, only that it does not seem to be wood.

The first note of the flute sets them dancing, moving in time with the beat of a low, throbbing drum. At intervals, one of them would raise a hand into the air, and another seal about the perimeter would start to glow.

There is no noise but the drum, which quenches even the slosh of water on the rocks, the tidal pull of the sea, and then the elderly begin to sing, clapping in time with the music if their hands are free.

The leading drummer flips a drumstick into the air, in a lazy motion before catching it with only his fingertips, the action reminiscent of the girl's knife throwing.

He sips his sake, and tries not to be intoxicated by both the light and the dark of this moment, by the sound of the drums, the old man's voice rising into song in a language that he doesn't know, but burns primal anyway. Any longer, any longer at all, and he will feel the urge to step off of the dais and into the dance himself.

He doesn't know why he wouldn't, it seems perfectly natural.

And then it stops.

Madara comes back to his senses, and reminds himself that more civilized people do not dance and chant around a bonfire and they are most certainly not tempted to join others when they do so.

He sets his cup down on the stone table with a slight click.

For a moment, there is only blank silence, and the young people pair themselves off and the pairs arrange themselves into two rough lines, weaving in and out of each other.

The next dance is slow, like the wail of the koto which accompanies it, but the heat never wavers. The glowing seals all around flicker as though imitating candlelight. Above them all, the moon is full and clear, bathing everything in its own pale brilliance.

It is clear that of the pairs of dancers spinning around the flames, in the light and in the shadows, one is certainly better than the rest.

It isn't truly the pair that dances better, he decides after another glance at the two. It is the woman who catches and holds all the fire in their back and forth.

The poor boy caught by her can only follow along, and reflect her.

The woman wears her blood red hair in a twisting crown of braids piled atop her head, and a light blue kimono, swirling with red spirals. Her steps seem like wind and air, light and lovely, and it is unclear whether or not her bare feet touch the ground at all, so light she seems this night.

Her dancing is wild and unrefined, but it is a happiness that screams itself from the above the waves, roars through her every motion, and subsumes the poor fool that follows her, a pale imitation of her brilliance. The moon can only reflect the sun, and this woman burns like flame, and ice and consumes even the moon above them in this dance.

It is only as they spin past the dais that Madara recognizes the woman.

Uzumaki Kanae.

* * *

The dance ends, but the music doesn't, it just slips into something more joyous than wild, and a few remain on the floor spinning about in time to the music.

She kisses the boy on the cheek airily, a laugh like waves. "It was fun, Jiko-kun." And then she dances her way to the dais, a smile on her lips. "Chichi, Haha." She bows politely once to both her parents, and then turns to him. "And a good evening to you, Madara-sama, Izuna-san." Her lips are painted purple. Her eyes are done with dark kohl. Her neck is powdered.

She does not look young.

"Yes." He says, although it's most certainly not a good evening, and something about the music makes him alive and sick all at once. She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes intent on his face as if trying to divine how much of his statement he means.

"Niisan thinks the music is wonderful." Izuna says, because that is what he says, always covering Madara's disappointment, anger, grief. Even now, he still sees clearly into his brother's soul, and says what must be said to keep the peace.

Kanae covers her mouth with a wide sleeve, and giggles. "I'm sure, Izuna-san." She dances forward a few more steps, and takes him by the hand. "Won't you come down to dance as well?"

Madara feels his lips tighten, but he's frozen at the moment. _Is it stupidity that she asks a blind man to dance with her, when that fool who had full control over where he was going couldn't keep up with her or is it something more?_

"No, Kanae-san." Izuna responds, and only Madara can hear the longing lost in his voice. "I would not be a good dance partner. You should offer to dance with Niisan instead."

She smiles, even though Izuna can't see it. "Izuna-san, dance is for the heart, and you'll have fun." She pulls his brother up, and down onto the floor. "Come on. No one will think that you don't dance beautifully."

And the music that continues on is sweet, and for the first time in months, in maybe even years, Madara sees Izuna smile not because it is expected, but because he is happy. His steps do not often falter, and when he does, she is there to compensate, able to right him without even seeming as though she does much work at all.

"She seems to be enjoying herself tonight." Lady Uzumaki observes to the general surroundings.

"Yes." Uzumaki-dono agrees, even as dark eyes meet Madara's own for a moment. "I hope that she will be happy no matter where she goes."

Lady Uzumaki sighs. "She is young still."

"Naokano." And the air takes on a slight chill. Lady Uzumaki draws in on herself.

Nothing more is said on the dais.

The zither takes on a lively air, Izuna melts into the crowd of merriment. The only difference between him and the crowd is that his hair is dark, and even that is soon hidden.

Uzumaki Kanae's long red hair comes loose from its braids, and everything else disappears into the red of the flames.

Madara's hand slowly clenches over the cup, trembling, but it does not shatter.

* * *

He steps off of the dais as the music changes, and does not join the dancing. Instead, he walks away, past the light of the seals and down the worn stone path down to the rocks.

There he sits down, and watches the moon dance over the waves, as it bleaches everything white.

"Madara-sama?" She's here now, instead of the dance floor. "Have I offended you?" She asks, as if she really has the power to _offend._

"No." He replies, and hopes that she will return to her dancing, to the music, to the lights.

Instead, she sits down on the rocks beside him, and the moonlight makes her long loose hair look like ink, with a soft touch of blood. "It's all you've said to me tonight," She says, voice soft. "Yes and no." She turns to look at him, full in the face. "Both were lies."

He closes his eyes, but says nothing. _When have I become so easy to read?_

"Madara-sama? Do you ever think you'll tell me the truth?"

And he can't help it, he laughs. Why, god, did he make this little woman so funny? "The truth helps no one."

She takes his hand, takes both of his hands in her own. "It would help me." She says simply. Honesty scours his soul, and finds him infinitely wanting.

He does not want to think that Izuna is probably sitting alone and fragile now, back on the dais because he has retreated to this place.

He opens his eyes, and finds that she is sitting on the rock below his now, feet tucked up. "The truth?" He asks.

She nods. "The truth."

"I do not want you." He says. "And expect I never will."

She smiles, though something about her eyes seems sad. "It wasn't so hard to say, was it?"

"I've learned." He pauses. "That this generally makes others like me less."

"Did you want me to like you?" She asks, and leans back to watch the sea, her head against his knee, her small hand still in his. "Or did you just not want me to hate you?"

She is always asking questions it would seem. Questions that he dislikes the answers of, and therefore never will answer. "Hn."

"It is a beautiful place." She gestures over the water.

"Beautiful and bleak." She asks him for honesty, and now it pours from him, as though through a drain long clogged up but now finally unstuck.

She turns to him, blinking. "Perhaps it is." She sighs, resting her head on a hand. "Too bleak perhaps."

"Yet you love it." It is clear that she does, that she calls this place beautiful before calling it harsh and inhospitable. It is less clear why it is so.

"My blood is water." She replies at last. "And I am thunder in the sea."

They sit, a long silence stretching out between them.

He wonders if she would ever love forests just as much, ever find green and brown as beautiful as black and blue. Something tells him that she will not.

"Mito-neesan tells me that you cannot hear the waves in Konoha." She says suddenly.

"She would be right." And truth is cruelty.

She does not speak again.

They sit in silence until sunrise.

* * *

 **A.N.** And we're back. Madara is still sitting in my resident headspace fuming over something or other, so he might as well fume over how this fic characterizes him as being pulled in wildly different directions. Also, headcanon: the Uzumaki do not have fireplaces because wood is a scarce resource in Uzu, and who the heck would burn it?

Another thought: Madara's song would totally be "Arsonist's Lullaby" by Hozier.

Thanks so much to MarchionessBlueVelvet (I mean, they have another discussion here, does that count as relationship development?), and alizay (I found there was a lack of Warring Clans era fanfictions that had to do with Madara, and I wanted one, so here we are.) for reviewing!

And everyone else who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	3. Long Wave

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay."

-Robert Frost

* * *

She rises and offers him a hand after the sun is fully above the horizon. "Madara-sama, you may wish to rest." And the fatigue of the last few days weighs on him, but he had not thought that it would show.

He doesn't take her hand. "I will."

She stands there, for a moment, her back to the sun, her face in shadow, and nods. "Yes."

And then she leaves, climbing over the rocks, back towards the village.

He sits there, in the chill of the morning air, and wonders why he feels no desire to leave. The sea is soothing, in all the wrong ways, and the crash of waves seems to laugh with a woman's voice. Far out in the waves, something impossibly large shifts, its coils rising above like hills, and slowly slides back beneath the depths.

"Boy!" Madara turns, and suddenly realizes that there is water sloshing over his feet. _When did I-_

There is a truly elderly man before him, with fading red hair and cutting dark eyes. The man's face is weathered, craggy, and hard as the rock face.

"Yes?" Madara suspects that he knows who this is. _The oldest man on the island, Tanaka-san. As Kanae says, 'an old grouch.'_

"Hmmph." The old man looks decidedly unimpressed. "You're hardly as polite as the last foreigner on our coast."

And something in him roars angrily, but he's made a mess of everything already. His teeth grind together. _Hashirama would have danced._ "It figures," he mutters under his breath. "That you would like the idiot more." _Never enough. Never good enough._

The old man cackles. "Oh, you're perfect." He locks Madara's wrist in a steely grip and drags him along.

"Perfect." Madara repeats, truly flat. _Will I ever understand any of these people?_

"Vicious." Tanaka-san mutters, as they stumble down the street and past the deserted square. "You're a perfect match for our Little Storm. Mind you, take care of that girl." The old man pulls him into a stooped, crumbling house. "Watch your step."

They head down a set of three steps into a bright and sunny kitchen like area. Tanaka-san deposits him on a woven reed mat, and putters over towards a water heating seal to stir a pot.

His stomach growls. "What am I here for?" Now that he is away from the mesmerizing crash of the waves, his head swims, and his hands shake, and his stomach rolls horribly, both hungry and not hungry at the same time.

Tanaka-san sets a steaming bowl of foul smelling soup before him. "You were about to do something incredibly stupid." He glances sharply at Madara. "What did you see out there, that made you walk into the water?"

"Nothing." The soup smells truly disgusting, not fishy, and the white chunks of meat float above a murky soup of seaweed.

"What was it that you saw?" The old man sits down on the other side of the low table, and gestures to the soup. "Eat. If you saw what I think you saw, you'll need it."

Madara picks up the spoon, and takes a sip.

The taste makes him want to spit it back out, but he hasn't eaten for well over a day. He chokes it down. "What is this?" His hands are no longer shaking. He wipes the sweat from his brow.

"Turtle soup."

Turtle. His mind blanks for a moment. _What is this place?_ He's eaten worse. He brings the bowl to his lips, and chokes down the rest of it.

"Tanaka-san!" There's a clatter, and a crash at the doorway, but a red blur appears in the kitchen. "Hojo-kun told me that he'd seen you dragging Ma...dara-sama." She finishes, as she comes to a stop on the other side of the table. "What happened?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you, girl." Tanaka-san slaps a hand on the table. "Why did you leave a mainlander by the sea to get wave-dazed?"

She blinks. "Oh." And then she sits down on the floor. "Oh, Kami, I'm sorry."

"Maybe he'd tell you what he saw, but he would have walked right into the sea, and you'll be down one husband, girl." Tanaka-san climbs to his feet, and sighs, his bones creaking. "They'll be beaching the whale at noon. I'm going down to the bay."

And then he vanishes out the door.

"Madara-sama." She asks, in a small voice when they are well and truly alone. "Will you ever forgive me?"

He glances at her. All he can see is her long red hair, hanging in a curtain over her face. There are no green eyes asking him uncomfortable questions. "What is there to forgive?" _Besides this truly awful turtle soup._ His mind adds. _The aftertaste is worse than the time we ate boiled leather._

Her shoulders are shaking as she pokes his leg, and then carefully takes one of his hands, squeezing lightly, almost as if she doesn't believe that he's solid anymore. "Y-your life." She sobs. "I didn't tell you that on occasion the youkai come too close, and that a mainlander-"

His eyes narrow. "Mainlander?"

"You don't live here, you know." She pulls herself together, piece by piece, and wipes her hair away from her face. "You're a mainlander. They drown quite often without attention. I just didn't, I didn't think that you would be wave-dazed. You seemed-"

"What." The waters surrounding Uzu are known to be dangerous, and plenty of men have drown trying to find passage, but that is because there are whirlpools and storms at sea.

And maybe being from the mainland has something to do with that, because the people of Uzu clearly know how to predict the shifting water.

"The youkai," she says at last. "Hold court off the shores of Uzu. And they often lure people away if they can get away with it." She frowns. "But Habiki-san promised me that he wouldn't do anything. He knows you're supposed to be here. What did you see that made you step into the waves?"

"Hills." It sounds silly now that he says it. Who would believe that he'd seen hills rise out of the water, and his feet had moved of his own volition?

"Blue hills?" Her hands are on his elbows now, as she examines his face, green eyes taking in every motion. "Where they blue or red hills?" But she is serious, despite how insignificant he feels about the whole thing.

"Blue." They'd looked like waves. He feels a slight chill. "The youkai aren't real." He says this as much to convince himself as to convince her.

She snorts at this, a hysterical laugh bubbling up. "Please don't say that, Madara-sama. Not here." She pulls him to his feet, and they exit the house together.

* * *

"Izuna-san is safe." She says quietly, sitting on the hardwood floor. "Or safer, because you can't see anything you know. Just don't follow any strange voices, and you'll be fine." Her hands twist together in her lap. "I should have told you earlier, I should have-"

"Kanae-san? What is going on?" Izuna adjusts the band over his eyes with a hand, and crosses his left leg over his right.

He'd been sleeping when Madara and Kanae had stumbled in.

Madara does not know if his brother's confusion is better than ignorance, but then he remembers that he'd nearly walked into the waves, and he'd no recollection of even standing up, much less stepping into the water. If Tanaka-san hadn't called out to him...He doesn't finish the thought.

Kanae herself sighs, and runs a hand through her hair. "Our island shares a delicate balance with the Habiki-san's court, the one under the sea." She rubs a hand down her face, and seems to fold into herself. "We have a peace accord with them, so they won't take us, but visitors aren't always so respected."

"But youkai aren't real." Izuna protests. No one believes that demons are real. Tailed beasts perhaps, but there are a set number of them. Not enough to make a court. Not enough to be intelligent.

Kanae laughs. "Mainlanders." She gestures to the scroll hanging on the wall behind them. "That is a portrait of a youkai." The woman in the portrait has long red hair, and ghost green eyes. Her skin is as pale as rice paper.

She looks remarkably like the young woman sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Her name is Iruya-atawa no Kanae." And she sounds tired. So tired. "She married Uzumaki Ishiro five hundred years ago to keep the peace. From her, we get our red hair." Her hand is idly playing with a loose curl. "But if you don't believe me, that's alright."

Izuna wraps the blanket more firmly around his shoulders. There's a draft from the door that he can't see, but it's clear that he feels it all the same.

"That explains nothing." Madara doesn't know if she is trying to be evasive, but it makes no sense. Nothing she has said today makes any sense.

"If you truly don't believe me that the youkai exist, then why did you step out into the water?" He doesn't have an answer to that. She stands, and taps the sealing array on the floor.

He feels the chakra spike, before the room starts to warm.

Uzumaki Korui had said it required a little chakra. "What did you just do?" She'd not used a little chakra.

She blinks at him. "I turned on the heating seal, Madara-sama."

 _The Uzumaki have a special chakra, Madara!_ Hashirama had said, when he'd said that he'd be making the journey. He shuts the thought away and focuses on the thought that she is more powerful than she appears. _She doesn't find this unusual._

"Thank you, Kanae-san." Izuna leans forward. "But I still don't believe you."

She throws up her hands. "Well, then you can just wait around to see Niisama then." She stalks across the room, and then turns to look back at the two of them. "Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya is half albatross." Her gaze turns pensieve. "But of course, that will have to wait for the turn of the wind, in six month's time."

"What?" He asks.

She laughs, perhaps at the shock so easily expressed in the lines of his frame. "It's the worst kept secret on the Island: Chichi's first love was Anharaya-atawa no Biwa, the Lady of the Iron Claw."

So Uzumaki Ashina's bastard is a youkai, not a man. And suddenly the deference his siblings paid to the mysterious Kyoya-niisama makes sense.

She guides Izuna to his feet, and out the folding door. "Come, I need to yell at Habiki-san, and it is better if I can point and gesture at the guests that he is not supposed to touch."

* * *

She strides out onto the waves as though she is stepping on dry land, and he takes a moment to consider that she might not be as defenseless as she appears. "Ichiro-usahaya no Habiki-san!" She yells, above the crash of the waves, still standing on the water.

And then the water moves and parts, blue hills rising and slipping back down into the depths, and then red coils, and then finally, a head.

 _A sea snake._ The largest Madara's ever seen, its head easily as wide across as Uzumaki Kanae is tall. "You called, Lovely Girl?"

She has her hands on her hips as she frowns. "You promised you wouldn't harm our guests."

And suddenly it is no longer a snake with its head above water, and body beneath, but a well dressed man with dark blue hair. "Oh, I wouldn't have, Lovely Girl."

And Madara feels more than just the morning chill seep into his veins.

He'd seen this...being before. And it had nearly lured him out to sea.

Habiki turns his gaze away from Kanae, and out toward Izuna and Madara. _He has mismatched eyes._ Slit pupiled like a snake, one blood red, one ocean blue. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced." His tongue is forked. "But I think I know who you are." He steps out of the water, and onto the rocks. "You are the ones who have arrived to take my lovely girl away from the Island." There is an edge of displeasure in his tone.

Madara takes a step, and places himself firmly before Izuna.

"Habiki-san!" Kanae sets a hand on his elbow and pulls him back before the flickering tongue can come too close. "Why can't you be polite to them?"

"Oh Lovely Girl." The snake-man murmurs, voice sorrowful. "Women like you drown oceans." He turns back to the girl still floating on the water. "But what will you be without oceans left to drown?" Madara himself had wondered about this, about how she would fare away from the sea, but never with quite this amount of poetry.

She raises her chin and straightens her shoulders. "Nothing gold can stay."

The snake-man runs a hand through her red hair, nostalgia and melancholy in his eyes. "The sea will miss you, as the earth misses his sunrise." He steps past her, back into the ocean. "Fear not, Little Storm, I will not trouble your human suitor any longer." And then in an instant, he is far out into the ocean.

The last they see of him is the flap of a red tail, which knocks a wave back to land so large that it drenches Kanae completely.

She splutters, and shakes herself off angrily. "I hate you, Habiki-san." She turns back to Madara and Izuna. "Do you believe me now?"

And Madara can say that he does. "Hn." He wonders if Hashirama had also met a sea snake that came disturbingly close to licking his face.

He gets the feeling that Hashirama wouldn't have minded.

* * *

They take lunch with Uzumaki-dono's family, sans one, the albatross-man who is yet still absent. The sheer amount of red hair hurts his eyes, the loud boisterous laughter, his ears, and the smell of oysters and octopus soup, his stomach.

"When are you leaving?" Lady Uzumaki asks, her voice quiet and soothing, but her eyes are dark and sad.

"I'm not sure." Izuna replies, and takes a sip of his soup through the spoon, and then awkwardly misses the bowl as he tries to dip the spoon back into the bowl. The porcelain clinks loudly against the stone table. Izuna winces and turns to him. "Niisan?"

"Tomorrow." He's come to a decision. There's no need to tarry now, not with all that there is to be done in Konoha.

Something suspiciously like Hashirama's voice tells him it's just because he doesn't care for sementality. He shoves it away.

"Tomorrow?" Korui-san repeats, shock coloring his tone until it's almost a shout. "How could you take Shiko-chan from us by dawn tomorrow?"

Uzumaki-dono glances sharply at his heir. "Korui."

"No." Ashiro-san sets his bowl onto the table. "Chichi-ue you have to tell him that he can't do that. Shiko still has to-"

"Ashiro-nii." Kanae herself cuts in before her brother can finish the thought. "Madara-sama has said that he is going tomorrow. So I will go tomorrow, and that is all." She stands, gathering up the empty bowls, and starts her retreat. "Excuse me." She says, her head down. "I must visit everything once this afternoon, and then finish packing. Please enjoy the meal, Madara-sama, Izuna-san, Haha, Chichi, Obaasan." With a nod to each person at the table, she disappears in a swirl of red.

"Well, boy." The old woman pins him with a fierce glare. "You've made a mess of things, haven't you?"

"That wasn't Niisan's intent." Izuna apologizes, his voice soft and sure. "I'm sure that he only thinks that there is much to do in Konoha still."

Another one of Kanae's brothers snorts into his soup. "If only she were marrying you." His lips are twisted into a grimace. "At least you have social tact, and you speak politely."

Madara stands, abruptly, and leaves the room. Izuna doesn't follow him.

He assumes that his brother is simply, yet again, making his excuses.

* * *

Kanae visits him, when the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, and the sky is an ashy gray. "Madara-sama?" He says nothing, so she continues. "I heard that Masato-nii said something very rude to you at lunch today." So she's heard.

He has the uncomfortable feeling that everyone on the Island must have heard already.

He turns his eyes up to her still standing in the doorway. "When did you want to leave?"

It is the wrong question to ask, and he knows it as soon as it passes his lips.

"The truth, Madara-sama?" She asks, but doesn't wait for his answer. "Never would be nice." She sits down by the doorway, and in the steady light of the seals, he thinks she looks resigned. "But that is not an answer, and Izuna-san tells me that you are important to Konoha."

If only Izuna knew. For the first time in a long time, Madara is glad that his brother cannot see.

"Hn." If he were to acknowledge the feeling that snaps and rolls beneath his heart, he might call it guilt.

* * *

The next morning, they stand at the edge of the waves, as Kanae hugs every member of her family once, tightly, and then scans the sky as if hoping to see something on the horizon.

But she shakes herself once, and straightens her shoulders as she steps onto the water. "I suppose he won't be coming." Her admission is quiet, but Izuna catches it.

"Who?"

"Kyoya-niisama." She shrugs. "He won't be here until the turn of the wind, and that is not today." The edge of disappointment in her tone is quiet, subtle, but still very much there.

"Oh." Izuna sighs. "It's irresponsible of him to not come and see you off."

Kanae guides him away from a whirlpool and laughs brightly. "Izuna-san, you can't judge him the way you judge men." Her laughter dies away to a small smile. "He isn't a man, you know."

"Why not?" Madara asks. Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya is half human. He might as well be a man who has not returned to see his sister off into the unknown.

"He doesn't think of time the same way." She shrugs. "It might as well be a few hours to him for all that years pass for us."

And that is disconcerting, but not as much as what she says next. "Violence takes on a different hue for him too." She guides Izuna around another mass of swirling water, away from the sinkhole in the center. "He's fond of catching intruders and cutting them apart for shark bait."

He decides that it is easier not to ask about the highly vaulted Kyoya-niisama any longer. The man is simply too strange for his liking. They reach the mainland with little trouble, and their journey continues.

In many ways, traveling with Uzumaki Kanae is like traveling with a small child who has never seen half the things that they pass. "And what is that type of tree over there, Madara-sama?" She's set her hand in the crook of his elbow, and leans over to gesture at a large flowering plant.

"That is not a tree." He reminds himself almost gently, that she comes from a place without real trees.

She blinks at him. "It isn't?"

"It's a bush." It's a lilac bush, and this is spring, so it is easy to see why she confused the two things.

She huffs. "What's the difference?"

He pauses for a moment, and considers it. "A bush is shorter than a tree."

"And it doesn't have a trunk." Izuna adds, a hint of mirth in his voice. "Most trees have trunks."

She throws up her hands. "I don't understand any of it."

Izuna leaves them to go on ahead, a mile out from Konoha. "It's so I can get the house ready for when you arrive, Niisan, Kanae-san." He says, oh so innocently, but Madara knows, in his heart of hearts, that it's really because he wants to leave them alone so that Kanae can continue to point out every plant and animal that she does not know the name of, and pester him with questions.

However, Izuna is set on going, and there are few things that can harm him so close to the village.

Madara lets him go.

* * *

He has taken her from the polished lacquer floors, and rich opulence of Uzu, and placed her here, in Hashirama's rough hewn wood city. He only realizes the full dichotomy of the two places well after he steps back through the gates.

And the Uchiha District is rough as well, not fully finished even after two years.

He thinks that she will quickly learn to hate it here, and that sours his mood.

"Madara-sama?" She slides her hand away from the crook of his elbow, and he feels strangely bereft. She does not often hold his hand, but on occasion, she does set her hand on the crook of his elbow, as if she needs him to guide her, and that is soothing enough. At least he does not have to look at her eyes then, and it reminds him slightly of Izuna, of younger days. "Where are we going?" There's a smile on her lips as she dances along, feet still bare, in the dusty street.

"The Uchiha District." He murmurs. Her excitement in the face of this rough unfinished city surprises him. Perhaps she is made of surprises, and that is all she is.

"Is everything made of wood there too?" She bounces forward on her toes, her half length kimono rising with the warm spring breeze.

Across the way, a young Hyuga man pauses, and stares blatantly at her legs. Something inside his chest growls and snaps, and he has to remind himself that they are working towards peace now, and Uzumaki Kanae is not his _property_.

He blinks. "Yes." He corrals her away from the Hyuga, and down the street.

"Good evening, Jiisan!" She calls out to a passing Nara man, and Madara can see the exact moment that the other man blinks and looks twice.

And again, the other man focuses on her bare legs.

She frowns slightly. "So unfriendly." She murmurs, and tucks her hand back in the crook of his elbow. "I was only being polite."

Madara rather thinks it is that she has been so surprising that they could not help but stare. "They were distracted." He doesn't want to add why, because he rather thinks that she would be offended. She'd not changed her clothing to something more appropriate for the mainland.

"Wow." She's paused. They've paused, in front of his front gate, and she's running a hand over the roughly varnished dark wood. "You must be rich, Madara-sama." She says, and her laughter soothes his shattered nerves just a little. "This is such a fun and beautiful place." Her good cheer is infectious and he feels the corners of his own mouth turn up.

"I am rich?" He asks, and pushes open the door to show her into the interior courtyard.

"You have so much wood." She says, and dances onto a stone path, the pearls in her hair clattering. "And only rich people can afford to build their entire house out of wood, and it's everywhere in Konoha." She turns to him, with big shining eyes, and laughs at the expression she finds on his face. "Didn't you know that?"

And only belatedly does he realize that Uzu is primarily built of stone and clay, and he'd stayed with the richest man in Uzu.

Perhaps what he found opulent had merely been a facade, uncommon, not for everyone. Perhaps she truly finds him wealthy.

"Hn." He steps forward. "I will show you the house."

* * *

 **A. N.** And thus Kanae leaves Uzu, and Madara becomes slightly more positive about this whole thing. It's really a miracle.

Next up: A wedding, A Senju (Re)Meeting, and Mito.

And thanks to spicyrash (No, but the road is long yet, and I am running with zero clues as to how the future plotline works. Madara's calling the shots though, so some things are bound to be tragic.), MarchionessBlueVelvet (Yep. Now they have switched places. It's Konoha and the Senju/politics of that scenario now.) inperfection, LittleMissSugarLess (I'm glad you like it. The ocean is a living part of Uzu, so it's very heavy and prevalent in the first few chapters.), and Alizay (Kanae is about 17/18 and Madara is 24 give or take. And well...Madara's Madara.) for reviewing!

And everyone else who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	4. Three Cups

**I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Because nothing makes me happier

And nothing makes me sadder

Than you"

-Nicole Kraus, _The History of Love_

* * *

She sits in his room on the floor, looking about.

"Are you convinced that I am not rich now?" Madara asks her, and for the first time, sees his living quarters as an outsider might. It is sparse, with rough walls and a single futon, a rack for his armor and his weapons, a bookshelf against the opposite wall, a writing desk. It's hardly like any room that one would find in Uzu.

She's set her pack by the door, and with his words, rises from the floor. "Madara-sama..." She runs a hand over his gunbai, and then over the wakizashi underneath it. She peers curiously at his kama, and rearranges the chain so that it hangs straight. "Are you always so negative?" She doesn't wait for him to respond. "How does one use a war fan?" Her gaze has returned to the gunbai.

He blinks. "Those are two very different questions."

"I figured you wouldn't want to answer the first one." She picks up the gunbai by its handle. "But I'm sure that the answer to the second is more interesting." She examines the smooth handle, and then the metal edge of his fan. "It is unsealed."

"Hm?" He comes to stand beside her. He does not know what she means, but she seems smart enough. _Given that she has already read my truths from my lies, surely she can read a question in a response._

She laughingly turns to him, and he is strangely caught by the light in her eyes, the quirk of her lips. "Would you mind if I did?" She runs a hand down its edge. "It would help with the nicks." And then she frowns. "It would be better if it were forged in, but I'm no good with a hammer and anvil, but I could repaint it for you before every battle you have to face." She means protection seals.

 _They must use seals for more than I thought in Uzu._ He realizes. He'd only seen seals for light, for heat, for communication, but Uzu is famous for its sealing masters who'd mastered the art of using ink to win their battles, and the men and women with the propensity to dabble in poisons.

"You know seals?" He asks. He doesn't know exactly what she's offering to do with his gunbai, but she'd said that she fought. He didn't think that she'd been taught battle seals. There are several famous sealing masters in Uzu, but currently only one master of poisons.

Uzu's Red Viper is one to be feared. Only now does he realize that she is probably related to every warrior to reach acclaim from her watery homeland. _Perhaps the viper is a brother of hers, but the city's famous battle sealing squad is certainly in some way related._

She blinks. "Not particularly, they aren't my specialty, but these are the ones that everyone learns." She sighs, and sits back down on the floor. "I wasn't as patient as Neesan, and that's so embarrassing now, but don't worry-" She says, perhaps something of his shocked look forcing her to assure him. "These really are very basic, I wouldn't be hurting anything."

She doesn't seem to fear him particularly, didn't seem to take his shifting expression as one of anger as women often do. _She doesn't know a thing about me._ The thought makes him squirm. _She'd asked to know me, and I refused outright, and then paid no attention to her self introduction._

"Perhaps you could show me what they are." It wouldn't help him much, wouldn't help _them_ much. He doesn't know a thing about sealing, but he doubts that she would lie to him. Not when she asked for his truth. He passes her a brush from his writing desk.

She sets it down beside her, frowning slightly. "Madara-sama..." She says, almost absently. "I don't need-" And she presses her palm to his wooden floor, and when she peels it away, a five ring pentagram with a single character in the center appears. "The five points are reflective of the five meridians in the hand when channeling chakra. They correspond to five vital organs: the heart, the kidney, the liver, the lungs, and the intestines." Her fingers ghost over each of the points. "The central character is the kanji for protection in the Sesho, or grass, style calligraphy which calls for a sense of motion. Each of the rings are written with the repetition of the character for durability."

"How did you-" The sharingan tells him that there are hundreds of interlocking squiggles in each of the rings, they aren't really solid black lines, yet she'd only set a hand against the floorboards.

"Well this one isn't complete, or it would take more effort." She flicks a lock of hair over her shoulder. "There's no extra chakra to power this, since I don't think you want to make your floor particularly durable."

"They move." Upon further study, it would seem that the rings seem solid only because the characters move.

She laughs, leaning over the seal. Her hair brushes his shoulder. "Well, there's just enough chakra in there for that." She smudges one of the rings with her fingers, and the not quite ink picks back up and disappears. "Who else lives in your house besides Izuna-san?" She asks, conversationally, as they sit there together, before the silence between them settles too deeply.

"No one." The rest of the clan lives in the district, but this house is built for more than two.

The clan had thought it better, given that the clan head is expected to have a family larger than two.

"You don't have any other family?" She asks, an arm wrapped around a knee.

 _She is used to people. Her own family is large._ "N-" The word sticks in his throat. "I used to." He settles for that instead as he rises. "The war took them from me."

She rises with him, more subdued then she'd been before. "Oh." There's a small frown on her lips. _She has lost no one in her entire life._ She shakes her head. "To think that I would not speak to Chichi for a month because he let Neesan leave the island."

She does not say that she is sorry for asking, that she understands his pain, or other such nonsense filler phrases. She moves forward, and does not offer him her pity. It is strangely comforting.

"Where am I staying?" She strides forward to pick up her pack once more. "You've shown me the front rooms, your room, and the guest rooms. Is there a room for me?"

He considers it, and is ashamed to admit to himself that he had not really expected to bring anyone back from Uzu at all.

He'd thought the whole journey a fool's errand that he'd only complete because Hashirama would be displeased otherwise. _Madara, why won't you even try to be happy?_ The voice in his head is brutally smashed and shoved into a box in the back of his mind. _Go to hell. I don't need you in my head too, when you have invaded every other aspect of my life._

Now that he is no longer on an island with the sound of the sea and the cry of the gulls, he needs to stop daydreaming about a daft man who smiled too readily and trusted too easily.

"Niisan?" It's Izuna, making his way down the hall, naturally, because this house does not change, not if Madara can help it, he's memorized every room. Izuna knows exactly where everything is in this house, and he'd be damned if his brother got hurt because he forgot to push in a chair, or switched the places of the tatami mats. "We have guests."

His headache suddenly comes roaring back in full force. "Who?"

He hates guests.

* * *

As it turns out, guests means Hashirama, his new wife, and wonders of wonders-Senju Tobirama.

"You." Kanae's stepped out from behind him, and the younger of the Senju brothers freezes in his tracks.

The corners of her mouth pull up in an unholy smile, and she takes a step forward. "Me." Tobirama takes a step back. She takes another step forward. "Did you miss me, Senju-san?"

"As if I would miss-"

"Otouto." It's the red haired woman by Hashirama's side who's spoken, her dark eyes cutting, but her gaze quickly turns fond as soon as it lands on her sister. "Kanae-chan, don't be rude." There's an impish smile on her lips as she turns to Hashirama for a brief moment, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Anata, I'm afraid I want to monopolise my sister's attention."

Hashirama's gaze turns to him, and for the briefest of moments, Madara is at a loss for words. Luckily, it would seem that Kanae is perfectly capable of distraction even unwittingly.

She's already bouncing forward, her bare feet pattering over the wooden floorboards of the front room. "Neesan." She bows slightly to Hashirama. "Nice Senju-san, your city is quite interesting."

Hashirama laughs, even as Tobirama splutters. "Imouto!" He slings an arm over her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "We're a family aren't we? Don't call me something so formal! Call me Hashirama-nii." He sends a besotted look over his shoulder to his wife. "I've always wanted a little sister, and now I have one." It's almost as if he has to brag.

The red haired woman smacks his arm with a folding fan, the seals dangling from her buns shaking dangerously. "Stop mobbing my sister, Baka."

Hashirama has the audacity to stick his tongue out at her. "Never!" He slings his other arm over Tobirama's shoulders. "Come on, Tobi, we need to go out into the yard." The three of them are carried forward by sheerly by the force of Hashirama's enthusiasm. "You look happier, Madara!" He calls back.

 _Happier? Why would I be happier in this new fresh hell?_ Seeing Hashirama again makes his throat run dry, makes him lose his sense of dignity and every scrap of pride he still possessed.

The woman sighs and throws up her hands. "I hope your journey to my childhood home was not overly dangerous, Madara-san." She's decided to speak to him instead of arguing with Hashirama's wooden-headed ways then.

It is only then that Madara realizes that he doesn't know her name. _Surely Kanae used her name just once?_

 _No. Kanae calls her sister Neesan._

He tries his latest attempt at a smile. "It was a perfectly interesting trip, Uzumaki-san."

She covers her smile with her fan, amusement dark in her eyes, and he is unsettled. "You've forgotten my name again, Madara-san." She curtsies slightly. "Uzumaki Mito, but of course you must call me Mito." When she raises her head, her expression is anything but amused. "I hope you still remember my sister's name."

 _Who does she think I am?_ "Uzumaki Kanae." His lips pull tight, and he drops the attempt at geniality. "I didn't forget your name, _Uzumaki-san._ " He's gotten used to lying, and confronted by Uzumaki Mito he reverts back to his habits.

"Of course you didn't." Her lips are pursed, but she doesn't hesitate to look him full in the eye. "I will tell you this only once, be kind to my sister, or I will find a way to kill you." The moment passes, and suddenly she is no longer larger than life, throwing shadows over his walls. Uzumaki Mito is just a woman. "I know you don't love her."

"She doesn't love me." It seems only fair. Neither of them have any overt attachment to each other. So much the better. It would be uncomfortable otherwise.

"I don't care." Mito leans forward, the frown on her lips pronounced. "You'll do your best to make sure that she is _happy._ "

Madara is slightly at a loss once more. He has never seen this woman quite so vicious before. He had thought her interaction with Hashirama all that there was of her character, but clearly not.

"Neesan!" Kanae clatters back into the room. "Save me!" And then she's hiding behind her sister, in a fit of childishness.

Hashirama appears in the doorway, gray haori dripping. "Imouto...why must you attempt to run away?"

"It's not anything to do with you, Nice Senju-san." Kanae says, attempting to cling to her sister, even as Mito herself moves toward her husband.

"It's Hashirama-nii!" Hashirama protests in vain. Behind him, Tobirama himself appears, looking more like a drowned cat than anything else.

Madara doesn't keep the smirk from his lips when their eyes meet. _Did someone else get the better of you, Senju bastard?_

"But I don't want to spend any time with the other Senju-san." Seeing that her sister had abandoned her, Kanae's come to hide behind his form instead, her small hand holding his elbow.

"And that's Tobirama-nii, right Tobi?" Hashirama has not seen his brother's expression.

Tobirama's lips pull back in an inhospitable sneer. "Why I would ever want to be related to some rabid dog, I will never understand." And Madara's blood goes cold. "Actually I'm not sure that a dog would rip out his brother's eyes." It is the worst kept secret between himself and the Senju, but the women in the room didn't know, but this charge he can't deny.

How could he, when it is Izuna's eyes that he sees with?

Kanae's grip on his elbow tightens, for a moment, he thinks she's shaking from fear. "Senju-san." She steps out in front of him, and draws herself up to her full height, which is no taller than his chin, and he sees the icy fury in her eyes. _It wasn't fear._ "I don't think you're welcome in my house. Get out before I make you."

Tobirama's face mocks him, mocks the fire in his heart, the burning in his veins, but he's made no accusation that is not true. "Make me." The man says, and Kanae's lips draw back exposing teeth, fury carved into every feature.

Uchiha Madara is not made for peace. It confounds him, sets him on edge, and he cannot find himself comfortable in its skin. _What is that except an attack dog?_

"Tobi!" Hashirama's found his voice again, a little too late. "How could you ever say something like that? Madara's the one who first had this dream with me! I am ecstatic that we'll be related to him soon." _Related._ The attempt at comfort sinks to the bottom of his gut.

 _I-You think that is what I want from you?_

Mito's hand lands on her brother-in-law's arm. "Threaten my sister again, Tobirama, and I will not be kind."

"Neesan! I do not need you to fight my battles."

"I brought tea?" Izuna steps into the room, a tray balanced in his hands, a small smile on his lips, and immediately, the arguing screeches to a halt. The Uzumaki women withdraw to the porch, and the other three of them find a seat on the tatami mats around the small side table.

"Thank you, Otouto." He doesn't delude himself. Izuna heard at least the tail end of the argument, but if he doesn't mention it, Madara can pretend that it didn't happen.

They could pretend that nothing is wrong, that Senju Tobirama isn't the most uptight _bastard,_ and leave it at that.

"I can't tell you how much I missed you, Madara." Hashirama says without a hint of guile, and his accursed heart skips a beat. "Tobi was so boring. It was paperwork now, and paperwork later."

There's a confession of the same in his throat. "I doubt it." It doesn't make its way out.

And Hashirama sinks into a cloud of oblivious depression. "Why don't you ever believe me?"

"He's incapable of belief, Niisan." Tobirama says.

"You're wrong. Niisan has more faith than anyone in this room." It's Izuna again, setting the teacups on the table before Tobirama just a _little_ too hard. Just enough that some of the liquid splashes onto the Senju. Tobirama hisses, and Izuna smiles. "My apologies, Tobirama, it's a bit hard to see where the table is."

Izuna knows exactly where the table is, but the words cut Madara's heart anyway. _It's my fault that you can't._

 _It's my fault._

"And whose fault is that?" Tobirama muses. "I can swear that your eyes are in this room right now, _Izuna_."

Izuna's smile tightens just a little. "That was a choice, Tobirama. I don't suppose you would understand in the slightest."

"A choice?" Tobirama tosses back his tea in a single gulp. If Izuna got angry enough, he could knock them over, and claim that it's really just _so hard to see, sorry Tobirama._ "You sure it was a choice? I'd say that you should be glad we agreed to a peace before you died." Unspoken goes the idea that it would be Madara's hand killing his younger brother.

Something in his blood boils, but the damned Senju bastard has not _said_ not in so many words. He has no room to protest. Not when Izuna had come so close to dying.

"I wonder why I or any other member of my clan was in danger to begin with." Izuna says, and his passive aggressive nature serves him well here. "It certainly wasn't because we were at war with anyone." He taps a finger against his chin. "I can't think of anyone we would have been at war with, can you, Hashirama-san?"

Izuna does not _like_ Senju Hashirama much. Madara wishes he could say the same.

Hashirama's protest is weak enough. "Izuna...we didn't mean it so-"

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." Tobirama hisses under his breath, and Madara nearly throttles him right there.

"Threaten my brother one more time, and I kill you, Senju."

"Yeah, you were so good at keeping your brother alive, yourself." Tobirama snaps back, red eyes flashing.

He's on his feet, his hands about to wring Tobirama's neck, and Hashirama's between them, pushing them apart. "Can we ever have one meeting when you two don't try to kill each other?" His voice is plaintive, sad. "Please?"

There's a flash of red in the doorway.

Madara doesn't wait to hear the end of the wreck. He leaves, leaves Hashirama behind to attempt to soothe ruffled feathers.

 _Running away in your own house._ Senju Tobirama's sneer appears in his mind's eye. _A coward, a thief. Who do you think you are?_ The floor before him sways.

He can't shut out the voices. He sets a hand on the wall to steady himself, but it only makes everything worse. His head feels like it's about to split open.

"Madara-sama?" Her voice follows him down the hall, but his mind is slipping. He has no desire to put on a mask for a little girl, no. He hasn't the energy. "Madara-sama?" Her hand is on his arm.

He tears it away, and wheels around to face her. "Get out." His heart is burning. His eyes are on fire. He cannot stop the river rising in his throat.

"I was only going to ask if you-" Her green eyes. They accuse him.

His hands twitch. He _wants._

Wants what he shouldn't. Wants to put them out, wants them to _stop looking at him._

"Ripped out my brother's eyes?" He slams a hand against the opposite wall, just over her shoulder, and stands there, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. Why can't he catch his breath? Why are her eyes accusing him still?

"Actually-"

"Whose eyes do you think I have?" He roars. It is louder than he expects, and his voice cracks and breaks, but her eyes are still accusing, still- _Kami._ He shudders. "Whose eyes do you think I have?" He asks again, quieter now, because he'd come so close-so close, and now the only emotion he feels is guilt. His anger flees as quickly as it had come.

Her eyes had not accused him anything more than the truth.

"If you do have Izuna-san's," her hands come up, one against his cheek, the other between his heaving shoulder blades. "I'm sure you have your reasons." Her smile is brittle, but her touch, it _drowns._ "He loves you so, Madara-sama, as you love him."

He bows forward further, his head coming to a rest on her shoulder. He does not want to see her, doesn't want to look at her eyes. "I-" There's a stinging in his eyes, but these are not his eyes. _Izuna's eyes._ If he could give them back-

"Breathe." She whispers, arms around him. "It's alright to breathe."

He gasps, air flooding his lungs. Her touch no longer drowns. _Taking comfort in a little girl? My you really are-_ He locks the poisonous Senju Tobirama away in a cage in his head where he firmly belongs.

Her hands are tangled in his thick hair, rubbing circles over his back. "The war has hurt you. Senju Tobirama hurts you more." Her tone is pensive, considering, but still she does not offer any sort of platitude. It is merely a statement. That is all.

"Call me what I am." He retorts, and now that he is no longer drowning, the grief recedes, though a different sort of guilt creeps in. She had not done anything to deserve his fury. Her eyes had accused him of nothing at all. Their only fault was that they are green. He doesn't move. Somewhere along the line, his hand slipped down to hold her shoulder. "Broken."

Her throat is no more than an inch away from his face. He sees her swallow, sees the muscles contract and relax.

"You are not broken." She says, and it's with enough conviction that he almost believes it.

"Oh?" How interesting. "What am I then?"

"You're _heavy._ " She huffs, and he almost recoils. "And for someone who says he doesn't want me, you're perfectly comfortable draped over me."

"I am not heavy." This is a childish protest. He is still wearing full armor, so of course, he weighs more than a normal man, but her shoulder is hardly as bony as it looks, and he is tired.

So tired.

* * *

In the end, he does not find a different room for her.

He had not built the house with a bride in mind, and thus didn't bother to outfit a bedroom next to his own.

Izuna is in the room across the hall.

Lady Uchiha should hardly live in a guest room.

His futon is perfectly capable of holding two people, he would know, given how many times he's shared with Izuna before the war's end.

His room is hardly the worst place to spend the night.

He tells himself all of these things excuses when he wakes up the next morning, and finds that she's fallen asleep leaning against his bookcase.

She looks like a doll, her limbs sprawled in an uncomfortable position, hands loosely curled, hair falling about her face and bunched up in the back.

And she is not beautiful, not the sort of woman that he'd consider spending the night with, and, he realizes very suddenly, quite _awake._

She has her eyes half closed, but her hand twitches as he sits up. He doesn't really remember what came after the walk down the hall back to his room, but his armor is hanging on the rack, where it is supposed to be.

He needs someone else to unlace the back.

"You needn't worry." She says. "Izuna-san was waiting for you in your room when we got back." And he is slightly relieved.

"Why did you stay?" Sleeping hasn't entirely refreshed him, and knowing what he has done the day before does not make it easy to look at her. He doesn't look at her.

"Why wouldn't I have stayed?" Oh, so she's back to the uncomfortable questions. At least they are no longer discussing...eyes.

"I didn't scare you?" He climbs to his feet, and considers the idea of crossing the hall to Izuna's room.

She laughs, and runs a hand through her hair, smoothing it down. "You're not really scary, Madara-sama." She breezes past him, and picks up his chest plate. "Niisama is scarier than an entire battalion of Hoshigaki warriors when he's in a rage." She loops the stays around him and knots them as though she's done the same thing a million times.

"What am I?" He asks her.

"You're perhaps two Hoshigakis." She tells him, perfectly mock serious, as she laces his shoulder guards. But she can't keep a straight face. "No really, why would you ever want to know something like that?"

It's at this moment, that he notices how easily she's armored him. "When did you learn this?" Her people don't march to war. Uzu is a place of peace.

"I've helped Niisama armor up ever since I was seven." She pulls his hair out from under the shoulder guards, and unlike when Izuna does it, it doesn't hurt. "He used to be home much more often." She sounds...sad, perhaps. "But it's different now."

Her melancholic tone discomfits him. He finds a subject completely unrelated to the topic at hand. "Why were you sleeping against the bookcase?"

"Mmmm." She looks away. "I thought I was supposed to ask you uncomfortable questions, Madara-sama."

"Madara." He tells her. "My _name_ is Madara." No one ever really calls him Madara-sama and means it.

"Yes," She says, the smallest of smiles on her lips. "I am perfectly well aware that your name is Madara-sama." She doesn't mean it either.

He storms from the room, and she follows behind him, quietly laughing.

* * *

The wedding is exactly two days later, attended by a very small gathering-Izuna, Hashirama, and Mito. Tobirama is thankfully absent. _I don't want to see him._

 _Preferably ever. Someone should push him off a cliff._

The various attendants fit him into the hamaka, and then the black haori, the Uchiwa stitched to the sleeves, the chest, and his back.

Hashirama sits by and chatters idly. "So, what do you think of my little sister?"

Madara raises an eyebrow at this. "She is hardly your sister." The men that he'd met in Uzu had better claim that Hashirama to the role, and it is not as if Uzumaki Kanae lacked in brothers.

"But she's my darling Mito's little sister!" Hashirama protests with a lovesick expression on his face that makes Madara want to lose his breakfast. He has yet to see anything of Uzumaki Mito that is particularly attractive, and he doubts he ever will. "She has to be my younger sister. I've always wanted one!"

"No." Madara snaps. "I refuse to be your younger brother."

Because of course, in Hashirama's fool head, that is how this all works. The Senju and the Uchiha will be one collective family, he'd have his friends under his care as the eternal big brother, and the entire village will be his family.

The very thought makes Madara ill.

"But Madara..."

"I will not be compared to your _lovely_ blood kin." _I will have nothing to do with Tobirama._ He takes care to not actually look at the depressed cloud that is Senju Hashirama. It is easier to stare at some fixed point on the wall, and count quietly in his head.

If he were to look, he'd want to comfort the man. If he were to comfort Hashirama-He kills that thought quickly and precisely with a well aimed mental kunai.

He'd signed the damned paper with Uzumaki Ashina. Signed in his blood, and he still had his pride.

"Mada..." Hashirama is the only one to call him Mada, and only when he wants something.

"What?" He asks, almost shortly. The interjection has made him lose count.

"Please be happy." Hashirama rises with a sigh. "I know that Tobi likes to bait you, and I can't get him to stop, and that you don't like it when we mention your-" A glare stops Hashirama from completing the sentence. "And you don't act like you've been happy ever since even before I made the decision to go to Uzu for Mito, and I just want you to be as happy as I am."

"Are you done?" Given enough time, Hashirama would go on, launching into a speech extolling the virtues of happiness, and the necessity of smiling and he'd really rather not listen. Not today.

Hashirama slumps. "You haven't listened to a single word I've said, have you?" _I've memorized your every word and expression._

Madara strides past him, out onto the walkway. "You're an idiot."

Kanae is not yet finished, and Hashirama simply follows him out. "Mada, I mean it. I want your happiness."

Madara is tempted to turn around and tell him exactly what he thinks of Hashirama's plan, and how Hashirama could contribute to his happiness, but the other door slides open, and Kanae steps out, with shoes and socks for the first time, followed by her sister, and Hashirama falls silent.

Her face has been painted rounder, her lips dark purple. Her red hair is mostly covered by the white hood. There are white cranes stitched to the outer layer of her kimono.

And this one reaches her feet, the hem trailing behind her. Mito passes her a fan, and she takes it silently, spreading it over the lower half of her face.

Madara takes a breath, and steps forward. She sets a hand on his arm, in the crook of his elbow, and they make the walk up to the main building of the Naka Shrine together, Hashirama and Mito falling in step behind.

* * *

The priest offers him the smallest sake cup first, and pours three times. The first cup is for the heavens.

He takes the required three sips, and passes the cup to Kanae. He is here, taking a bride before every ancestor he dares to claim as his own.

He doubts that a single one of them would approve. She is not Uchiha. His children are less likely to have the sharingan, and that makes all the difference, but more than that, it is the underlying emotion in his heart. If his father disapproves of his wife, he would disapprove of his love even more.

Kanae is offered the second cup, the cup of earth, first. She takes the required three sips, and passes him the cup.

The sake burns his throat.

It is a pledge for the woman beside him. _Love._ He thinks. _What is love? Has this cup ever meant_ something? There is no marriage for love.

The third cup. Fertility.

And then they rise, clapping twice in perfect unison, though he is as wooden as ever. The cups have been exchanged.

It is time for the vow before the gods.

He wets his lips and begins. "On this day, before kami, we are thankful for this ceremony. Going forward, we will love each other, trust one another, share the good times and the bad, and swear that this will stay unchanged until our bones are dust." He pauses for a brief moment. "Uchiha Madara."

"Uzumaki Kanae." Her voice is clear. He does not turn his head.

The priest offers them each a sprig of evergreen, which ought to carry their prayers to the gods.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and prays that he learn to accept peace even if he doesn't deserve it.

The evergreen is set before the altar.

It is done.

* * *

 **A.N.** In which Madara has a mental breakdown, and there is a (traditional as I could understand it) wedding. It always feels like Madara is one good push away from a mental breakdown, and Tobirama is quite ready and willing to push him.

Thank you so much to LittleMissSugarLess, Wyteeth (Don't worry, the youkai and such come back later. Along with a certain elder brother of Kanae's.) Caeleste, and Fey (And yes, because it's Madara, complicated is in fact, an understatement. He's not good with the whole, understanding his own feelings thing.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed!

~Tavina.


	5. White Flag

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

-Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Being Earnest_

* * *

There is no reception after the ceremony. He dislikes crowds, and parties, and it is late already. At least, this is what he tells himself. It is cold comfort that most of the village would most likely not attend even if he were to be persuaded to hold some sort of celebration afterward.

Uzumaki Mito hugs her sister tightly, once and whispers something in her ear before turning to Hashirama, who claps him on the back. "Be happy." The daft man says, and then walks off, arm in arm with his wife.

It is only he, Izuna, and Kanae now.

"Mmm," Izuna says, as he moves down the hall, towards the guest wing. "Have a good night, Niisan, Kanae-neesan."

"Izuna-san!" Kanae wails from beside him. "I'm five years younger than you." So she is seventeen then, which is not as young as he'd thought, that morning on the coast of Uzu.

Everyone from Uzu seems to conspire to look younger than their ages. If he were to use the energy, he would take it as an offense.

Izuna raises a hand to show that he's heard, but doesn't retract his statement or his steps.

Madara himself stands frozen. His brother's actions had all too clear an implication. _You, Otouto, have your mind in the gutter._ Why else would he decide that his own room is too close a room to sleep in tonight? Why else would he say 'have a good night' instead of merely good night?

But it is not as if where his mind had gone is all that far from the truth.

Madara curses him anyway as he turns to his...wife. "Shall we go?"

She freezes for a moment, as if suddenly remembering that the ceremony is not all that is expected of this night, but then she straightens her shoulders, and looks him in the eye. "Yes." She says clearly. "Yes, we should."

They head in.

She stands there, suddenly awkward, a few feet away from him, as she carefully takes the hood off of her hair.

Her hair pins are white, plain, and most likely made of bone. Of what bone, he is not aware, but in the candlelight her hair less harshly red than it is in daylight, and it throws a rose glow over the walls. He decides that this red is much more bearable than whatever color her sister's hair is. He ignores that it is practically the exact same shade of red.

He watches her attempt to unknot the elaborate obi, with a small shred of amusement. A seductress she is not, and twisting her arms into knots behind her back does not help her any. "Come here."

She looks at him briefly, surprise warring with concern over her features. "Madara-sama?"

He feels a small stab of irritation. "I am not a pig." He snaps, and turns away. "But if you have some desire to fall asleep against my bookcase fully dressed you are welcome."

And she laughs, the sound breaking over his shattered nerves like waves. "I am sorry." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "If you are offering to help it will be appreciated, and I would much prefer not to sleep against your bookcase."

She is humoring him then. He isn't sure he likes the idea. "Who is it that cannot untie a knot?" Her struggle had been amusing to him, and it colors his words all too clearly.

She huffs, but turns around anyway. "Neesan pulled it too tight." She sits on the floor before him, and his hands do not listen to his demands. "I'm good at undoing knots that I tie."

They reach up, and pull the pins from her hair instead. That still does not loosen everything, so he takes out the bone comb as well and that finally does it. Her hair falls like silk over his hands, and he wonders when it was that he'd last held hair so long. Perhaps it had been his mother's. He sets the thought away.

"Madara-sama?" She turns her head, and his hands freeze for a moment.

"It looked tight." Is all that he can think to say for the moment. Have her eyes always been so green? He sets the comb on top of the small pile of hair pins.

"No, that's not what I was going to ask." She turns around a little more. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

Ah yes. That was what was missing from the moment: her uncomfortable questions. For the barest flicker of moments, her eyes are dark, and her hair is dark, and her pale skin is tanned under the light of the sun-

"No." He snaps back at her. "No one. Ever."

Her face falls. "Oh, well, theonlypeoplethatIhaveeverkissedarementhatI'vekilled." She says this all in one breath. "SoIsupposethatwedon'treallyknowhattodo..."

And his face is on fire, as he turns her back around to actually unknot that unfortunate obi. "If you are asking if I have ever slept with a woman the answer would be yes." He hisses under his breath. _I will have you know that I am not some idiot boy. You're the one who has no idea what to do._

She stiffens. The first layer of her wedding kimono slides from her shoulders.

He realizes what he's said, and curses every deity that ever existed. It is probably a bad idea. He reminds himself that he is Uchiha Madara and he does not care.

"Did any of them have red hair?" She asks, conversationally as she leans back. Her head comes to a rest somewhere in the vicinity of his pounding heart.

"No." There are still six layers of her unfortunate kimono. This is perfectly fine as far as he is aware. Red hair is not a common color in the Land of Fire.

"Hmmm." Her breath fans out against his neck. "Well, at least I know that you didn't marry me for my hair, despite how taken you seem to be with it."

He chokes. "It is bearable."

She turns around to face him, and the second layer slides from her shoulders. "Only bearable?" She asks, and dear Kami, she sounds slightly disappointed. "I like my hair."

"It is headache red." He snaps.

Her hand is against his face now. "Doesn't it match your eyes, Madara-sama?" She asks him rather absently. "Wouldn't your eyes also be headache red then?"

Had he thought that she was not a seductress earlier? He's changed his mind.

He tilts her head up with a finger, and leans in, stopping when there is less than an inch of space between their faces. "No." He tells her. "They are not the same sort of red at all."

She smiles, and it is a smile that would make his blood boil with anger on any other person. Her eyes tell him that she doesn't believe him at all. Tonight, it is just a rather pleasant simmer, something of lightning on his fingertips. "It's the same shade of red." Her hand slides to the back of his neck. She leans forward that last inch, and brushes her lips against his.

Something in his chest roars.

It might be his heart.

* * *

He wakes the next morning to sunlight streaming in from his windows. There is something of a bone deep ache permeating his soul. He is perfectly alone.

This concerns him slightly, and would concern him more, but the door slides open. "Niisan?" Izuna asks, and his face is turned with unerring accuracy to where Madara is, still flopped over. "Kanae-neesan made breakfast."

So that is where she went. He pries himself off of the floor. For a moment, he is absurdly thankful that Izuna is incapable of seeing. _There is no need to for him to worry about...me._

He ignores the thought that Izuna would hardly be worried that there are scratch marks in the shape of _someone's_ hands over his back. Izuna would be overjoyed. It is not as if they are even particularly deep.

"You said that Kanae made breakfast?" He slips on a yukata, and heads to the door, where Izuna is still standing.

"You know, Niisan." Izuna comments. "Somehow, I think you must be slipping. There was a time when the women you took to bed never wanted to leave it."

Damn him. "Hn." Madara continues walking, because that statement doesn't even warrant a response.

Alas, this is their house, so Izuna is perfectly capable of following him to the kitchen. "Niisan?" Does he have to sound so innocent? "How does Kanae-neesan have enough energy to make breakfast?" Madara makes an unfortunately rude gesture that Izuna ignores altogether because Izuna can't see it in the slightest. "Don't tell me you two did nothing yesterday, and I moved all the way across the house for _no reason at all_."

"Hn." He says again, and continues walking, because surely Izuna would stop as soon as they got to the kitchen. Surely he would.

He does not. "Niisan, you've fallen so far in your domestic tranquility. I remember the days when-"

Madara slaps a hand over his mouth, and practically hisses the next words. "You say another word about my domestic bliss and I will outlaw you to some other house." This is an empty threat. Madara would hardly force his currently blabber-mouthed Otouto to stay some other house. His heart can't take that sort of worry. Izuna would get lost. Izuna would be lonely. Izuna would fall and hurt himself. There are a million and one things that Izuna would do that are all unacceptable.

Unfortunately, this means that Izuna has a free pass to embarrassing him whenever he so chooses.

Izuna calmly pulls his hand away. "So you're so satisfied that you want me to go away forever and ever?" He frowns in a slightly pouting way that Madara has always been weak against. "You're so mean, Niisan." He turns with unerring accuracy to where Kanae is watching them both with a bemused expression on her face. "Kanae-neesan, Niisan is being so mean to me...he wants me to move away so he can have you all to himself."

She is standing in his kitchen, wearing yet another half length kimono-this one is as green as her eyes-as if she's been doing it her entire life. She smiles rather awkwardly at Izuna. "I doubt that's what Madara-sama means, Izuna-san." She sets out several dishes, and passes Izuna a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. "I made miso soup and grilled fish." She does the same for him. "Oh, and rice too." She adds, almost as an afterthought.

And thank Kami. Neither he nor Izuna are particularly talented in culinary endeavors.

He eyes his food somewhat suspiciously. "When did you have time to buy the ingredients?"

She gestures casually to the outside as she sits, her head propped up on an elbow. "It's nearly noon, Madara-sama." She shrugs. "I went to visit the market of course." Her hand plays with pearls dangling from her hair pins today. "They seem to like pearls."

"You could have been attacked." He says, and decides that he really doesn't need a spoon after all. He can afford to drink it straight. It's not as if he really has that much of an image to protect after everything that's already happened today. Besides, her cooking is divine, as if she's used to cooking for kings.

She blinks. "Inside the city?"

He frowns at her, over the rim of his bowl. "You are unarmed, and they greatly enjoy staring at you." _At your bare legs, which I am still at a loss as to how to explain are improper._

"What does that even mean?" She asks him, but there's no time for him to give her any sort of explanation.

The front door slides open. "Madara-sama!" It's Setsuna, who promptly freezes as he takes in the sight.

Madara sets his soup down. "Ah?" He has an image to maintain now, unfortunately. It is noon. He is currently dressed in a yukata, sitting in his own kitchen. He'd been caught drinking miso soup straight from the bowl and staring with annoyance at his own wife.

It is hardly that terrible, he decides.

"Well, it was a small thing really...I wouldn't like to intrude." Setsuna backpedals, but something about his eyes seem to be staring in the general vicinity of Madara's neck.

Madara glares at him, because clearly the man has gone insane. "What seems to be the problem?" It seems as though the man will force him to speak in full sentences, and that is enough to earn his ire today.

"Well, it's just that Taiko..." Setsuna is still staring in the general vicinity of his neck.

Madara considers that he might have gotten miso sauce on the collar of his yukata, which would be a pain. "What about Taiko?" He asks, speaking very slowly so that everyone would know that he's displeased.

"Well..." Setsuna fidgets. "He started a dispute with one of the Hyuga next door and now they're brawling in the street?"

His headache slams in, in full force. He almost groans at the thought.

 _Must I go out like this?_

A small hand touches his for a moment. "I'll go." Kanae rises from the table with one fluid motion, and breezes towards Setsuna who seems to be...mesmerized. Madara reminds himself that murdering a clan member would be kin-slaying, and that Setsuna has done nothing except be unfortunate today.

"Why don't you tell me who you are? And where the brawlers are?" Kanae smiles up at Setsuna, and it involves her uncomfortably green eyes.

"I'm going." Madara announces to no one in particular.

"Madara-sama." Kanae turns around and pushes him back into his chair. "You are not finished eating breakfast, and you won't go out without full body armor anyway. Sit down and finish breakfast, this won't take long."

He frowns. This involves his clan members. He absolutely _refuses to let the idiot Hyuga_ bully any of his family members. "No. I'm going."

Her eyes widen. She frowns. "Please?"

And fine. He'll humor her. "Fine."

She smiles, blindingly, brilliantly, and vanishes out the door with Setsuna.

The whole exchange took no more than half a minute. He's sure that his status as no longer a bachelor, but an incredibly happy married man will be all over the district by sundown.

He blames his clansmen for being gossips. They know nothing.

If he were in any mood for honesty, he would acknowledge that this is probably a good thing.

It's not as if telling people about his mental state would help him any.

"Niisan." Izuna says from beside him. "You really do like Kanae-neesan don't you?'

That statement doesn't require an answer either. "Hn."

* * *

Kanae reappears soon after Izuna's finished tying on his shoulder guards. She's dragging two boys with her by the ear.

"Madara-sama." She says as the three of them cross the doorway. "The brawlers have arrived for punishment."

He blinks once. Setsuna had not said that Taiko was brawling with the son of the Hyuga Main Branch Head. That is Hyuga Iroha.

Hyuga Iroha is a sight important to his clan. Hyuga Iroha is not particularly unskilled.

And Kanae has dragged him in by the ear no less.

She shoves them both into a kneeling position on the floor. "Apologize to Madara-sama for forcing him to cut his breakfast short."

Taiko does so, repentantly, because he's already scared by Madara's heavy glare.

The Hyuga boy doesn't so much as bow, but Kanae presses his head down, and smiles something dark and dangerous moving in her eyes. "Apologize to my husband, you brat, unless you want me to hurt you."

Iroha's face twists into a scowl. "Never."

She twists his ear, hard. "Apologize."

This would be terribly funny, is terribly funny, except well...the boy is still the son of a clan head.

"I'm sorry for beating up someone who clearly deserved it." The boy spits. Her smile takes on a slightly more dangerous edge. "Uchiha-sama." This last word took the most from the boy.

She lets go of his ear with a blindingly bright smile. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

Hyuga Iroha clambers to his feet, holding his ear. "Chichi will hear about this." He hisses, as he clambers away.

Kanae dusts off her hands. "Now, what should we do with you?" She asks as she circles Taiko. "You've caused trouble for your clan head too."

Taiko trembles slightly. "Whatever you'd like, Uzumaki-dono."

She sets a hand under the boy's chin, and tilts it up. "Hmmm, I'm not a demoness you know. Don't go around spreading weird rumors."

Taiko nods, furiously. "I won't. I promise, Uzumaki-dono!"

"Call me Kanae-hime." She says calmly. "And you can be my errand boy for the next month, and show me everything there is in Konoha." She waves a hand at him. "You can go."

He also clambers to his feet, and bows hurriedly at her, twice. "Thank you so much, Kanae-hime!'

Madara blinks, and Taiko is gone.

She steps forward, and sets a hand against his neck. "I bruised you." She says, and suddenly everything makes sense.

 _Oh._ Setsuna's staring makes sense now. He isn't sure if he should be concerned.

She blinks at him. "I'm sorry, it's gone now, so there's no need to worry." She steps behind him. "Did I hurt you anywhere else?"

"He is a warrior of the clan." He comments, mildly, because he is still not sure that she's dragged two fourteen year olds into his house just to force them to apologize to him of all people. And he's still not sure that his eyes haven't deceived him about the end result of her actions. And he doesn't want to tell her about anything else particularly.

She shrugs airily and moves on bare feet to clear the table and wash the dishes in the tub. "He is a little boy, only fourteen or so."

Madara frowns. "He's been fighting the clan's battles since he was eight."

She turns to him. " _Eight?_ " He nods, and she stands there, soap suds over her hands. "I wasn't sent out until I was twelve and even then, Haha raged about how it was too early." She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Eight. Chichi was right. Mainlanders are crazy." She mutters under her breath.

His eyes narrow. "Where were you sent out to, at age twelve?" She'd said something about this to him. She walked without weapons.

She had vast chakra reserves. She wrote seals with a touch. She'd just dragged two fourteen year old warriors into his house without breaking a sweat.

"Missions." She looks up at him, and takes in his clenched hands, and his frown. "I am a shinobi even if Uzu doesn't march to war." She'd said last night that the only men she kissed were the ones she's killed after, except him now, he supposes. _I am not dead._

"Who are you exactly?" She'd said that battle seals aren't her specialty, but if she'd been in battle before, how did she fight?

She blinks. "I told you all about myself in my self introduction back in Uzu." She sighs. "Of course, I put you to sleep then, didn't I?" She stands, and wipes her hands with a stray piece of cloth. "Well, I'll tell you about myself again, alright?"

This is what he'd missed about the girl-woman. He corrects himself. If she'd been to the battlefield, then she is a woman. "My name is Kanae. I enjoy the color blue. In my spare time, I am a seamstress." This is where he'd stopped listening the last time. He makes sure to pay attention this time. "In my daily life, I used to be the captain of Uzu's border guard, and the master of poisons. They called me the Red Viper."

And he has to sit down. "You're the Viper?" She nods. "You were the captain of the Uzu border guard?"

She nods. "You seemed to have missed all the important bits, Madara-sama."

So that's why she'd been the one to meet him and Izuna at the opposite coast. _It wasn't because she was being disobedient and bribed whoever who was supposed to come get us. She was literally supposed to come and get us._

 _Kami._

 _No wonder Uzumaki Ashina had no desire to give her away._ He looks up at her through his headache. _She is his daughter, an asset on the battlefield, and captain of his border guard._

This explained plenty then.

"I assume if I am unsatisfactory, I'll wind up dead." And now that he's had this thought...well it doesn't bear thinking about. It's his own damned fault. She'd apparently told him this, told him that she is a poisoner, and Uzu's damned best, but he hadn't been paying attention in the slightest.

She comes to sit next to him, and takes his hand. "Hardly. I promised you yesterday that we would share the good times and the bad. We've eaten at the same table, you know." Maybe that means something. For not the first time, he is struck by how alien and strange the people of Uzu really are, and how little he knows about them. And for a moment she is silent. "You're very fond of Senju Hashirama, Madara-sama."

The statement is completely unexpected. "What?" He's not sure how she'd know, what she'd seen, what she does or does not know.

But no one has ever said this to him before. No one, not even Izuna.

"You like him." She says, calmly, tracing the veins on his hands. "But he likes my sister and you haven't told him, even though unconsciously he knows and that makes him uncomfortable, so you have me instead." She tilts her head back. "And of course, I assume the clan demands heirs which is a little difficult to do when you're a man who loves a man."

"What?" He croaks once more.

"Don't act so surprised, Madara-sama." She looks him in the eye, and it's not the green that he's uncomfortable with. It's that there is no judgement particularly. He'd expected something else. He'd expected judgement. "We love what we love." She shrugs. "Chichi has proven that often enough."

Her father has a bastard son. Her father has a bastard hanyou half albatross son. This is supposed to mean something, but most of his thought process has shut down in the light of this revelation.

She'd just said out loud, what he'd denied to himself for years.

He'd never even thought it. The thoughts were crushed daily.

Often.

They run rampant now.

Very carefully, he gathers them up, and shoves them away again. He doesn't need to think it. Doesn't ever need to think it. Hashirama is happy as he is now, and the daft man can keep making googly eyes at his Uzumaki wife, and Madara can sit here by himself, alone in the dark with the other Uzumaki girl who seems to see too much, and had such uncomfortable green eyes.

He runs his hands through his hair. _This day just keeps getting better and better doesn't it._

"Just," she's turned away from him now. "If Hashirama-san ever says yes to you, say no to him please." She asks him. "I wouldn't mind it, but Neesan really does love him." Her head is bowed, and she looks smaller than she is. "It would break her heart, Madara-sama." _And that would break mine._

Her unspoken words hang in the air between them as she leaves.

He decides that now would be a good time to take a walk.

* * *

 **A.N.** And yeesh. Madara never really gets a break does he. It's just one train wreck after another. At least there aren't any mental breakdowns this chapter.

Although I am getting rather fond of writing him. For the flip side of this, check out Moonrise, which deals with Kanae's perspective of the events.

Thanks so much to wyteeth (Tobirama's just a cynic who is very concerned. I mean, taking your brother's eyes from an outsider's perspective is rather...alarming. Among other things. And I suppose Kyoya is flamboyant...sort of.), angelacorus, aflowerdeath (Yay! Shenanigans! And I suppose Kanae will find a way to punish him. He has been rather rude. Kanae doesn't like rude, and neither does Madara really.), MidnaMoo, Miss Nanami-chan (I get the feeling that Madara doesn't like his emotional side very much, and I feel that he's also deeply emotional. Which you know, is difficult for him. And yes, Izuna is totally adorable and also kind of tragic. As for whether they are doomed or not...I can see potential happy endings depending on how we rank happy?) and Fey (Yes, Tobirama acts as he does not because he's A Horrible Person TM, but because he has his reasons. Hopefully he grows up a bit more.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	6. Hurting Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"You know how they say

you only hurt the ones you love?

Well, it works both ways."

-Chuck Palahniuk, _Fight Club_

* * *

Madara supposes, that what Izuna had said about domestic bliss had been appropriate after all. Strangely enough, it isn't such a burden to be married.

As long as Kanae has no desire to speak of various thoughts which can never be mentioned. As long as Hashirama makes no mention of various topics. As long as his clan doesn't expect him to wax poetic about his wife. As long as he doesn't run into Uzumaki Mito. As long as Tobirama doesn't make his existence known.

Unfortunately, while Kanae seems perfectly content to say nothing regarding...He puts the thought away in an overflowing box in his head. Everything else seems to be conspiring against his 'domestic tranquility.'

"Mada..." Hashirama groans, one day into late spring as they are drawing more building plans.

"What?" He looks up from his page of notes, still transcribing the housing plans he'd seen in Uzu onto a sheet of paper with a brush, and a loving use of the sharingan. He forgets to turn the sharingan off when looking over. Hashirama's depression is cemented into his mind.

He hates himself a little more for it, for how much he both relishes and gags on it.

"Have I told you how much Mito charms me more every day?" _No, you daft man. You didn't interrupt me before lunch to talk about Uzumaki Mito. You haven't shut up about her in well over half a year._

"You might have mentioned it." Madara comments, and goes back to his building design. Sometimes, Hashirama got on his nerves, and it wasn't because he set them on fire. Sometimes, Hashirama got on his nerves, and it is just because Hashirama is goddamn stupid.

"But she is, she does, and her eyes are the color of earth, and she has such a cute smile, and I don't know how to explain it." Hashirama is staring off into the distance, a dreamy smile on his face as he twiddles with his brush absently, so that the ink goes everywhere, and the whatever he'd been doing is completely ruined. "But she makes my heart feel bigger every time I look at her, and I am compelled to write bad poetry which makes her laugh at me but then at least she's laughing..."

His words make Madara's heart _burn._ But did the idiot know it? No. Of course not. Madara is doing a very good job of keeping it from him. "Do tell me more." He mutters from the corner of his mouth. "This is fascinating, Hashirama. So much more than Uzu's building plans." _You don't know the meaning of heart expansion when you look at someone. You haven't looked at yourself._

 _And green eyes are better than brown ones. Especially when we are comparing my wife to yours._

"I'm so glad you agree!" Hashirama sighs, like the lovesick fool that he is, and flops back on his chair. "Mito's so wonderful."

Madara does not deign to respond to this, and it seems as though Hashirama's run out of steam for the moment, which he promptly congratulates himself for, because it's a job well done. If given enough motivation, Hashirama can run on for hours.

"Mada?"

He'd congratulated himself too soon.

"What?" He almost snaps his brush in two with the force of his displeasure. _One more word about Uzumaki Mito and I will gut you with this brush, love for you or no._

And then he has to pause, backtrack, and rewind, because that's not what he meant to think. It's Kanae's fault. She's the one who put the thought in his head. _I will gut you with this brush, friendship for you or no._ And that is much better.

"You haven't mentioned anything you like about Kanae-chan." It seems that Hashirama has given up on calling Kanae 'Imouto' at least in his presence because it grates on his nerves. It seems to grate on hers too, most of the time.

She doesn't seem to like Hashirama very much.

Then, Hashirama is related to Tobirama, whom no one likes, and by extension she doesn't like Hashirama either. Which is reasonable. The only reason why Madara doesn't dislike Hashirama himself is because he's an idiot too.

"She doesn't say inane things about the colors of other people's eyes when I'm trying to do work." Madara tells him, and he likes to think that he's perfectly calm. _Aren't your eyes also headache red, then Madara-sama?_ For a brief flicker, no more than the space between heartbeats, he feels her hands on his shoulders, and then it vanishes as quickly as it comes.

He's lying, but he doesn't care. He lies to Hashirama daily anyway. What's one more lie?

"You sound so angry." Hashirama says, and tugs at his arm. "Let's go for a walk."

The walk takes them to the top of the cliff face.

Madara considers that if Hashirama decided to start asking him for ideas about bad poetry, he could always throw himself bodily from the cliffs.

Or, since Kanae's still expecting him for dinner, he could throw Hashirama from the cliffs and call it a day. The idiot would survive, based on sheer blockheadedness.

"The Daimyo wants us to announce who the Hokage is soon." Hashirama says, as he stares off into the city. "I want it to be you."

"And have my face carved onto this thing?" He knows exactly how people react to his face. "Fat chance."

"Oh you aren't going to let me win, are you?" Hashirama sits down on the side of the cliff and stares at the rooftops. "I thought you hated it when I win."

"My face would be better than yours." Madara doesn't bother with sitting. "Can you imagine, a giant replica of your ugly mug on the cliff?"

Hashirama sags into a depressive state once more. "You're so mean Mada...why do you always hate me like this?" He slumps further. "Mito thinks my face is cute."

"You want me to tell you your face is cute?" The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, but he curses every god he knows as soon as he realizes what he's saying.

Hashirama looks back at him, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "Okay. Maybe not, Mada."

Madara turns away. "Tch. Like I'd ever." _I wouldn't use cute to describe it anyway._

* * *

Izuna disappears off to do whatever it is Izuna does after dinner, and he sits at his desk, reading still yet more papers about grain shipments and petitions.

He hates the work, and his shoulders are killing him.

On the other side of the room, underneath a painted seal which glows and gives off light, Kanae sits, hunched over dark cloth. He spares a brief moment to wonder what she's doing, but hasn't the real energy to ask.

He attempts to stretch, unobtrusively off course, because his shoulders are still killing him, and goes back to his papers.

There are hands massaging his shoulders not two minutes later. "You don't have to." He says, even as he leans back, because sigh. It feels fantastic, and his shoulders will stop killing him soon. _How does she know what I want?_

 _No one ever knows what I want._

She laughs quietly from above him, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Leave it be, Madara-sama. You'll keep fidgeting and being grumpy unless I do."

"I will not." His eyes slide closed. _Is this what domesticity feels like?_

Weirdly enough. Domesticity is not particularly bad.

"You will."

He cracks open an eye, and turns his head so that he can stare at her. "I _won't_."

"Okay." She says, and cannot hide the laughter in her eyes, and they are such happy eyes, he's not sure what to think about them, even if her lips don't so much as twitch. "You'll be grumpy either way, but you'll stop fidgeting."

He frowns at her. "I am not grumpy." He really isn't. He's almost content. If only _someone_ would oh, stop arguing he'd be perfectly content.

Her arms are around his neck now, and her chin's on his right shoulder as she shakes with giggles. "Yes, of course, Madara-sama. You are certainly not grumpy. You are fearsomely dark, and everyone trembles under the weight of your fury."

"Yes." He says, and picks up another account of how some civilian clan ought to be allowed entry to Konoha. "That is perfectly acceptable."

She laughs harder. "You're a cat, Madara-sama." She whispers, more for herself than for him.

He pokes her cheek with a finger, and hisses in disgust. "Move your head. You are ruining your efforts." There is no real anger in him, not now. His shoulders have stopped killing him, and her small hand over his heart is vaguely comforting.

She turns her head lazily, and then, with the quickness of a striking viper, lunges for his finger with her teeth.

They clack shut on empty air. "Don't bait me, Madara-sama."

"I want to keep my fingers." He tells her, but somehow the moment's lost, and there's another question that he has to ask now. "Do you mind?"

"Mind that you keep your fingers?" She shifts. "I mean, you probably should. I'm not a cannibal, and I wouldn't know what to do with an eleventh finger."

"No." He says, and further ruins the moment by setting the papers down. "That I don't love you." Nothing about her makes his fool heart beat faster, except her alarming propensity to do dangerous things alone and that is friendly concern.

Sometimes how kindly she reads him makes his guilt worse. He hasn't learned much about her in the past month or so, but she has seemingly noted and categorized every one of his habits.

She doesn't mention things that displease him unless he mentions them first. She doesn't cook foods that he doesn't eat much of. He'd mentioned that he used to drink tea, before Konoha, and she'd made tea in the mornings. She's almost ghostly in how well she picks up on what others need.

"No." She shrugs, and lets go. "It really doesn't bother me, Madara-sama." And now she's sitting on the desk before him, which puts them almost eye level, she a little higher than him now. "Have I made you uncomfortable?" Under the glow of the seals, her skin is cream instead of pale, and there are a thousand shades of red to her hair.

"How do you know what I want?" If she soothes even him, what must she have been for the people that she did love? What could she have been for a man that loved her?

She blinks, and her eyes are polished jade. "I've always known what people want." Her hand plays with the hem of her kimono, and his eyes are drawn to the rhythmic, tapping gesture. "My brothers are older than me, Neesan is giddy, serious, and nervous by turns, Niisama doesn't act like a man even when he tries to be one, Chichi often worries, Obaasan's bones ache in the winter, and Haha is unhappy." She shrugs. "People fall apart when there isn't anyone to take care of them. Growing up..." She sighs. "I took care of them."

So she'd always been giving. "You cared for them because they are your family." She nods, and her smile is soft, her lips painted purple, her cheekbones rounded. He could say that she looks...beautiful. "Why care for me?" She has no obligation to.

If he could find an obligation in her actions, it would make his guilt easier to bear.

"You're my husband." She prods his cheek. "I am supposed to cook your dinner, and massage your shoulders, and make your tea, and raise your children, aren't I? Isn't that what Uchiha women do?"

He stares at her for a long moment, his mind stuttering to a halt, and she throws up her hands. "Do you want me to be mean to you, Madara-sama? Is that how I'm supposed to make you happy?"

"It would be more comforting." He mutters under his breath. "But this is good too."

She has the audacity to pat his head as though he were some sort of little boy, and skip over to her side of the room, humming a mindless tune. "Just accept my kindness, Madara-sama. It isn't for everyone."

* * *

It is unfortunate, but about three days after this disconcerting discussion, Senju Tobirama returns from his diplomatic mission to speak to the Inuzuka.

"I don't know why we have to accept them." He crosses his arms over his chest, and glares at the Senju Bastard. "The mangy curs have fleas."

"And this is why you have no diplomatic duties." Tobirama sneers, his own arms crossed. "All you know is how to kill people."

Madara glares back with equal hatred. "You speak about bringing unknowns into a place that my clansmen gave their blood to build." He'd had to lose too much to bring about Konoha's existence, and he'd nearly lost Izuna. He will not be letting people into the city that is half his willy-nilly.

This is a monument to all those that did not live to see peace.

"And I'd say it would be better if they-"

"Tobi." Hashirama cuts in. "Stop ribbing Madara." He's sitting at his desk, massaging his temples. "You two will never get along, will you? What are you going to do when Madara becomes Hokage?"

Tobirama snorts. "Only you think that he's going to become Hokage." He stalks toward the door. "Everyone knows that Uchihas shouldn't be trusted with power."

He doesn't make it out the door, if only because it swings open, and Madara catches a flash of red hair.

He spends a moment in anticipation, but it's not Kanae. It's Mito, who seems to look just as giddy as Hashirama on a day that some poor fool feeds him sugar.

She's across the room in half a moment, her arms around Hashirama's neck. "It's confirmed." She says.

The widest smile that Madara has ever seen breaks across Hashirama's face. "It's confirmed?" The man whispers, in hushed tones. She nods. "It's confirmed!" And he's swinging her around the room, and setting her down, looking so guilty. "I'm sorry, Mito, I was just excited, and I can't believe it and oh my Kami, when am I becoming a father?"

For a moment, the silence is total. His lungs have no air.

Then Uzumaki Mito snaps open her fan and prods her husband's forehead. "Well." She says, almost tartly, but even Madara can see the joy in her eyes. "Not right this second."

Hashirama collapses to sit on the floor. "Thank Kami for that." He murmurs. "I'd drop the poor child."

Tobirama snorts. "Congratulations, Hashirama-nii." He nods to Uzumaki Mito, his voice taking on a slightly gentler tone. "And you as well, Mito-neesan." And he is gone.

Madara decides that they probably want to spend even more time alone together, staring soppily into each other's eyes or some other inane thing. He takes his own leave. "Congratulations." He mutters as he crosses the doorway.

No amount of tea will solve this problem. There's a storm brewing in his chest.

* * *

He pauses at the gate of the courtyard. It seems that every member of the clan ages four to ten are sitting in his courtyard.

"But the king loved his daughter very much." And Kanae is sitting on his porch, playing a koto, and speaking almost rhythmically. "He had no desire to give her away to his rival king, so he devised a stratagem to keep his daughter." She pauses, and looks up at him, a flash of concern in green eyes.

He has half a mind to shoo the children off to do whatever it is that children do in times of peace, but they hadn't even bothered to pay attention to his arrival, so rapt they are upon the story.

"What happens next, Kanae-hime?" It's Momo-chan.

Kanae rises, and dusts off her kimono with a smile. "Perhaps tomorrow, everyone."

There are protests, but some of them notice him, and shush the others quickly. "It's Madara-sama. We aren't supposed to be here."

All of them clear out quickly, bowing to him as they pass.

He says nothing to her. As far as he remembers, there is still sake in the back cabinet of the kitchen. He could stand to get drunk today.

Maybe it could wipe the memories from his mind. Maybe it can dull them.

He won't know until he tries.

She doesn't follow him.

He's lost count of how much he's drunk exactly, because the jugs keep moving, so it's terribly difficult to count them. That, and he doesn't much care anyway.

The cup slips from his hand, and shatters on the floor. The floor seems to rise up.

He glares at it in attempt to keep it in its place, and to keep from thinking of the memories. His glare is completely useless in accomplishing either of the two objectives. It really is terribly unfair.

He searches around for another cup. There was another in his set, he's sure of it.

It gets taken away from him as he reaches for it, but this time it's because it's attached to a hand and not because it's doing the strange running away thing again. He tilts his head up to find what the hand is attached to, and the air itself sways.

But he'd know those green eyes anywhere. "Give me my cup, Kanae." His headache is worse now, and her red hair isn't helping matters.

"I think you've had enough, Madara-sama." She tells him, not loudly, because she seems to know that he's having a headache.

He attempts to reach for the cup anyway. "Give me my cup, Kanae." He says again. "You're supposed to be taking care of me or something, because that's what Uchiha women do according to you."

At least if he's thinking about what Uchiha women do, he is not thinking about what Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito are doing, have done, will do. It's all the same really.

She doesn't give him the cup. Instead, she takes away one of the moving jugs, and then comes back, and gives him the cup. He doesn't know why she'd have to go through the trouble of pouring his sake for him. "You heard the news then, Madara-sama?'

And it's not really all about Uzumaki Mito, really. He knows perfectly well who is more popular between Hashirama and himself. Which really means that he will not be Hokage, even if he really ought to be Hokage. Then, nothing is ever fair.

He brings the cup to his lips. It is sweeter than sake has right to be. He glares in her general direction, even as his hands decide it would be a good time to start shaking. "This isn't what I asked for."

"It is that cup that you asked for." But suddenly he's tired. So tired.

His eyes slide shut.

* * *

He feels like a bruise when he wakes up again. There's a cloth, damp and cool against his forehead, and she is sitting next to him. "You're awake again." She says, quite softly, and even that is too loud.

"What did you do to me?" Whatever it had been, it had not been sake.

"A sleeping agent." She's watching him with mild concern. "You were about to give yourself alcohol poisoning."

His migraine tells him that she speaks the truth. "I thought you said that you wouldn't poison me." He's being petty. This isn't a poison.

Alcohol was a poison he'd all too willingly ingested.

She looks away. "I didn't want you to die. You can be cross with me later."

He laughs, but that rattles his chest and his head, and everything hurts too much. "If I kill myself, it isn't your responsibility."

"I told your parents that you'd want nothing I cannot give you." She changes the cloth on his forehead. "This isn't just about Neesan's announcement is it?"

"You knew?" If only he could think clearer, oh but no. He'd done this to himself precisely so that he wouldn't think clearer. If he could think clearer, he'd question when she'd met his parents. And tell her that his parents would most certainly not approve of her in the slightest, so she shouldn't do anything based on a metric of trying to receive their approval.

"She is my sister. She'd tell me first, of all of her family members." So Uzumaki Mito had been in his house again.

It's not as if he can complain. Izuna lives in his house.

And technically, the house is her dominion, so she can have whomever she wants visiting her house.

"Madara-sama, what are you really upset about?" She takes one of his hands, and rubs it between her own. For the first time, he registers that his hands are cold, and that he is still tired.

"Hokage." He is still tired, and her hands are warm. "I will not be Hokage." _I will never be Hokage._

She says something, but it's very far away, through a great deal of water. He could struggle for the surface, but he's tired.

He'd rather sink.

When he wakes again, it is to Izuna telling him that dinner is growing cold on the table, and "Niisan, did you drink all the extra sake in the house?"

He recalls hazily that Kanae had taken something away from him. "No." He tells Izuna. Technically, if there was anything to take away, then he didn't drink _all_ the extra sake.

Izuna doesn't believe him, but he does hold out a hand, and Madara peels himself from the floor.

It is enough.

His life is enough.

* * *

 **A. N.** In which Madara cannot take a hint, or a break. And things happen.

Thank you so much to WhiteFang001(There will be that scene, from Kanae's perspective. Sometime.), Wyteeth (Kanae just doesn't like denial, but Madara's like made of denial or something. It makes for some interesting times.), Miss Nanami-chan (Brat!Izuna is the best Izuna honestly. It's what younger siblings do.) MidnaMoo, and angelcorus for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	7. New Dawn

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"She wore his compliments like diamonds."

-Atticus

* * *

Hashirama becomes even more giddy and daft as the days go by. Madara takes to either flat out ignoring him, or avoiding him like he happens to have the plague.

Obviously this just makes Hashirama more likely to seek him out.

"Mada!" Hashirama's come to crash into his house, because no place in Konoha is safe from Hashirama, but Kanae's sitting out on the porch. He doesn't know why she is. It is far too early, the sun's not even really appeared over the trees yet, but she is.

He's still in bed, currently hiding his head underneath his pillow in the vain attempt to drown out the screeching outside. It doesn't help.

"Madara-sama's busy." She seems to understand without direct words, that he doesn't want to see Hashirama. Maybe it's because she doesn't like Hashirama very much.

Madara supposes that if he had a sister, he wouldn't want to marry that sister to Hashirama either. It seems like a bad idea to be married to a man who is as dense as Senju Hashirama.

"But Kanae- _chan..._ he's supposed to be working with me!" Hashirama sounds genuinely concerned, which makes him feel bad, but not bad enough to actually answer his door. "Is he sick? Oh my Kami, is he dying? I have to see him!"

This makes him feel worse, but not enough for him to answer his door.

"No, Hashirama-san, he is not dying. He's just busy." Kanae sounds...amused, if it can be called that _. A cross between amused and frustrated._

 _I suppose that is what Hashirama really is. Amusement and frustration._

"But he never avoids seeing me!" Hashirama wails from outside the door. "There is no situation where Madara is too busy to see me! He has to talk to me. I'm about to go out of my mind, and oh Kami, I'm going to be a father, and what am I going to do? How do I cope? I can't even raise a piglet, how do I raise a child?" His voice rises in pitch and volume, until it seems like Hashirama is having a mental breakdown out on his front porch.

Madara is sure that the Senju Clan Head's inability to understand life will be all over the district by noon. His clan is full of gossips, and the worst of them all is his own little brother who loves to tell everyone and anyone all about how much Madara himself _likes_ his wife.

It's official. Izuna is happier with Madara's wife than Madara is. Though, he concedes to himself, Kanae is not a terribly difficult person to be married to. She really doesn't even ask that he do particularly much.

"Hashirama-san, I'm sure you won't kill your child." She doesn't sound convinced of this, and Hashirama sinks straight into depression.

"You sound so certain, Kanae-chan."

"Hashirama-san, Madara-sama isn't going to be much help. He doesn't know what to do with children either." He feels a small stab of irritation at this. _I am perfectly capable. Who do you think raised Izuna?_

"But why won't he even come to talk to me? Is he angry with me again? What did I do to make him angry?" Hashirama sounds so plaintive that Madara considers prying himself out of bed.

"Why are you standing outside of Madra-sama's house shrieking like a teenage girl being denied the object of her admirations?" Kanae asks him, without a single shred of pity. "You'll wake him up at this rate."

"He's asleep?" Hashirama's pitch suddenly drops. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I'll wait for him to wake up."

It's time for him to give up lazing about on his futon then. Kanae's footsteps clatter over the floorboards. "Madara-sama? Hashirama-san is here to see you. Did you want to see him?"

He rolls over. "Hn." This hn means not particularly, because it's too early to deal with this sort of thing, but Hashirama left alone would make everything worse. Things get worse when he ignores them, not better.

"I'll armor you then? If you manage to roll out of bed that is." She offers him a hand, the corners of her mouth tilting up just slightly, but her eyes are laughing.

She is always laughing it would seem, always happy, despite how isolated her life is.

As far as he is aware, she takes visits from her sister, tells the children stories, manages his own domestic affairs, of which he is quite happy to ignore, and spends hours on end reading to Izuna.

He uncomfortably puts that thought away as well.

"I can get out of bed." He mutters, as he climbs to his feet. "And I most certainly do not roll."

Her hands glide over his back, erasing the scratches. "You shouldn't let me keep doing this to you, Madara-sama." She says calmly, as if she wasn't the one to injure him to begin with. "Even if you seem to find it fun at the time, you could be called to battle at any time, no?"

"They wouldn't hinder me." He mutters, as he throws on a haori, and leans over to lace his shoes. "And you get rid of them in the morning anyway."

A healer's touch seems to also be a part of her talent. He wonders, briefly, if there is anything that she is incapable of doing.

She hums mindlessly as she laces his breastplate, and leans up to pull his hair out from under it. "Is there a reason you keep your hair long?"

"Pride." He tells her, because really, that's all it is.

She laughs. "So it is like Niisama's braid then." She adjusts his shoulder guards, and steps back. "He wears the braid past his hips because it suits his pride." She works through the few snarls he'd acquired during the night with a comb. "Then, the Tori people of the Mountains of the Moon only cut their hair when they lose."

"He doesn't lose then?" Her voice always takes on a soft touch of adoration when she speaks of her eldest brother. She might berate, lament, love, and tease her other brothers in turn, there is only reverence for the eldest, least human of them.

"Niisama has never lost." She says, and it seems that her brother's pride is also hers. "And he won't lose now."

"Hn." Madara turns. "The Uchiha have no such rules."

She blinks. "I know they don't. I do speak to your clansmen you know."

As a matter of fact, he does know. Setsuna had talked his ear off at the last clan meeting. The man had also not taken the hint and asked if all the girls from Uzu were as pretty. Pretty is the wrong word to describe Uzumaki Kanae. And he doesn't know and doesn't care about other girls from Uzu. "They call you Kanae-hime." She doesn't seem to understand his question, so he tacks on an extra word. "Why?"

She leans up and prods his cheek with a finger. "Because I am the wife of a fearsome and dark warrior of great renown." He raises an eyebrow at this, because he really doesn't believe that her reason this morning is anything other than idle flattery. She laughs in his face, shoulders shaking, and it sounds like the waves of Uzu are still outside his door. He slings her over his shoulder, and spins her around until her soft laughter turns into something far more breathlessly joyous. "Madara-sama!" And it is soothing to know that he can still inspire joy.

"Mmmm." Hashirama hums from the door. "You have a nice laugh, Kanae-chan."

The both of them freeze, and Madara looks toward the door. "Why did you disturb me at an ungodly hour of the morning?" It is best to get this over with, like a bandage too long set over a wound.

Rip it off all at once instead of teasing it off, bit by bit. "Also, why are you wandering around in my house?"

"Because...Mada..." Hashirama drags out each of the syllables in a way that is really far too anxious for this hour of the early morning. "Ineedyoutotellmewhattodowithmylife." And now he speaks so fast Madara can barely keep up with him. "IamaboutogoinsaneandIhavenoideawhattodowithmyself."

Funny. Madara can say that Hashirama's contributed to a good portion of his own lack of understanding on what to do with _himself._

"Then do nothing and go insane." Madara crosses his arms over his chest. "I can't believe you woke me up to ask me about this."

"Kanae-chan!" Hashirama wails. "Look at how mean he is to me." He leaps forward to sob on her shoulder. "I'm going to kill your nephew because I don't know the first thing about babies and it will be terrible, and then Mito is going to kill me and I'll be dead and buried and I don't even think Mada will come to my funeral." That's a bit harsh.

Should Hashirama die before him-He cuts the thought down with a precise swing of his kama, and decides that he is not the type to simply not attend funerals.

"Hashirama-san, have you had breakfast yet?" Kanae pushes Hashirama away from her, not particularly gently, but Hashirama doesn't seem to notice, because he's brightened from his depression.

"No, I haven't."

"Then you might want to eat breakfast here." She adjusts Hashirama's collar so that it is no longer haphazard, straightens the shoulders of his haori, and brushes a few motes of dust off of the front.

Hashirama stands frozen for a long moment, as she ghosts past him. "Neesan might find your natural state of disheveled cute, Hashirama-san, but I don't. You're a grown man, Hashirama-san, act like it." She says even as she heads towards the kitchen.

"Your wife is scary, Mada." Hashirama mock whispers.

Madara shrugs. "It's not you that she's married to." Besides, most people, he imagines, would like to tell Senju Hashirama that he ought to act like an adult instead of an overgrown child.

That and Kanae hasn't ever treated him with any amount of chilliness.

* * *

"I don't think you have much to worry about, Hashirama-san." She says, as she sets miso soup before the two of them. "Neesan will not murder you if you drop her son...I think." She adds as she stuffs the inarizushi with the ingredients that she'd set out the night before.

"You sound very sure about that, Kanae-chan." Hashirama moans into his miso soup. "How do I know that I won't fail?"

"Failure is a part of life." She says, quite calmly. "Just hope that other people can forgive your failures."

She comes back with the inarizushi.

"This isn't a breakfast food." Hashirama looks at her suspiciously. "And it takes forever to make." Preparing the ingredients takes forever, which is why it had been such a delicacy in life before Konoha, but now, it is his casual breakfast food because Kanae doesn't seem to conform to the idea of what one can do in a single day.

"For the incompetent perhaps." She shrugs. "Besides, Madara-sama happens to like it more than grilled fish."

She makes inarizushi differently than the street vendors. There's somehow, a distinct flair to it that he hasn't been able to distinguish but can't really complain about.

Kanae disappears back to the porch, her bare feet pattering down the hall like she's trying out a dance move.

Hashirama sighs dreamily into his miso soup. "I'm glad that Kanae-chan takes care of you."

Madara raises an eyebrow but says nothing. _I don't think this is just taking care of me. At this rate, I won't fit into my armor after a year._

He's a spoiled man. He'll admit it.

"And I knew that she'd be able to stand your anger if you ever got angry with her." Hashirama's gesturing happily, "I mean, she put Tobi in the sand when he was being mouthy in Uzu, and she's capable of defending the people she loves."

She'd put Tobirama in the sand? Something in him stretches and sigh joyously. The image of Senju Tobirama face down on a beach is just too pleasant for words.

"-loves you, you know?" Hashirama's finished the soup now.

"What?" Hashirama had mentioned love and Madara in the same sentence, and he doesn't know what came before.

"I said," Hashirama takes a deep breath. "She really loves you, you know." And his heartbeat goes back to normal. _Oh. He was just making yet another of his inane declarations._

 _It didn't really have to do with me._

"How did you come to that genius conclusion?" He bits into a perfectly formed inarizushi, and nearly sighs, but that would be ruinous, especially for his food, so he chews and swallows instead.

"She does so much for you." Hashirama smiles, and it crinkles the corners of his eyes, in a way that is _distracting._ "And besides, I have an inside source, Mito told me so." Hashirama leans forward, and takes the last inarizushi from the plate. "I just don't know how much you love her, Mada. Mito said that you told her that you didn't, but I don't believe that. You've never let a woman so close to you before."

This whole conversation is crawling about under his skin. His mood is destroyed. _What the hell does he mean his wife told him that Kanae loves me? What the hell is this?_

And guilt threatens to burn his insides. He feels mildly sick. "Stop being inane, Hashirama." He hisses. "Just tell me why you think my marriage is an important conversational topic."

He needs to talk to the woman who is clearly still humming and telling clan children stories out on his porch.

"Because she's still my darling's little sister even if she doesn't want me to call her Imouto." Hashirama frowns. "I don't want her to be sad with you, and I think you need to try a little more."

Madara rises, a little too quickly because the chair clatters to the floor behind him. "You know nothing about how much I do or do not try, Senju Hashirama." _Do you think that if I could get rid of my feelings for a man that doesn't even love me and replace them for feelings with someone who seeming caters to my every whim I wouldn't?_ He leaves the kitchen.

"Madara! We needed to talk about the-"

"Do it yourself. You don't need me to run the village anyway." He snaps back over his shoulder. There's only one solution to his crisis at the moment, since all the sake has disappeared, and hasn't yet been replaced. He needs to set things on fire.

The gunbai comes down from the rack.

He clips the chain of his kama to the other end.

And then he exits his house from the back door.

* * *

It takes him two hours before he realizes that it doesn't matter how much he sweats, or how many trees he sets on fire.

He still needs to talk to Kanae, because- _She must really love you-_ Hashirama's words keep running through his head on an infinite loop. _Does the man ruin everything in my life?_

But Senju Hashirama is his eldest and best friend. Senju Hashirama shared the same dream and past. And even if he could weed out the desires that plague him, Senju Hashirama would still be his friend who said daft things and had big dreams and wide smiles.

It is not the man's fault that he stomps all over Madara's contentment without even meaning to with the most well intentioned of words.

 _She must really love you._

He strides back toward his house. It's time to ask the woman herself, because as far as he knows, she never lies to him. He doesn't think she'd lie to him about this either.

He hears the shamisen in the district, before he sees the musician.

There is a man striding down the path to his house, playing the shamisen as though it's a living thing under his fingertips. The clan children follow after him rather hesitantly, but his tune is sweet and carefree and full of life and vigour.

A dancing tune, a haunting airy laughing tune.

It's just hard to pinpoint exactly, if the music is rising and falling, if it sounds like a woman's laughter, or a man's humming, if it speeds up or slows down.

The man himself has long black hair, kept in a braid that sways past his hips, ink black feathers woven in close to his scalp, and he walks as though he is flying, as though his feet never touch the ground. He's wearing dark clothes, but it unclear if they are blue or black or a mixture of the two.

But what Madara does know is that the man is heading for his house, and he is concerned, because the last time he checked, Kanae was still sitting on the porch.

 _She might be the Viper, but I don't know how good she really is at self defense._

Madara pauses at the door of his courtyard, because the musician is standing in the center, still playing, though his tune is sweeter and more melancholic now, and Kanae doesn't so much as raise her head from her sewing.

And then her voice breaks over the music of the shamisen, rising into song. "Ever since you left, I've forgotten what warmth felt like, lost love, waiting on the long road down the mountain, listening to the wind blow."

And the musician responds. "I cannot see the edge of the night. The wind cuts me like knives. I will not see the west sea return to blue. Cannot see the sea from the skies." The music stops, and the man stands there, casually, in his dark haori, waiting, expectant.

"Love Song of the West Sea." Kanae bows to the strange man standing in her courtyard. "The musician is very talented." There is a teasing lilt in her voice, an admiration in her eyes.

The man bows back at her. "The musician lives to please the princess." The only ones that called Kanae a princess are those from Uzushio.

The men of Uzu have predominantly red hair.

"Would the musician like tea for his long road?" She gestures to the tea set beside her, on the low table.

The man takes a step forward. "If the princess is offering, this one will gladly accept."

She pours him a cup of tea, wrists straight, and offers it to him with both hands. "You look well." Her green eyes seem to drink in every detail of this strange man who'd intruded on their lives.

"You have changed your address." There is a chilly tone to the man's voice, and when he lifts his hands to take the cup, Madara suddenly realizes that his elegant fingers are tapered to black claws.

"Kanae! Ste-" He wants to say step away, wants to step between the two, but the man turns around, and his breath freezes in his lungs.

The musician has skin as pale as snow, and eyes of the chilliest blue, high sharp cheekbones, a jawline so severely cut in relief that Madara half suspects would draw blood if touched and a pointed chin.

The feathers are not woven into the braid. The feathers are a natural addition to his scalp. This is not a man, and that realization sets every nerve on edge. Despite being so fundamentally inhuman, this is still the most beautiful face that he's seen in his life.

And the Uchiha clan is full of beautiful faces.

"And, who might you be?" The not actually a man asks, without a shred of warmth or particular interest.

Kanae sets a hand on his arm. "Niisama," She murmurs. "That is my husband, and you are not allowed to harm him."

One fine eyebrow rises on Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya's perfectly sculpted, alien, avian face. "Oh?"

"Niisama!" She protests, and her brother turns back to her, a small indulgent smile on thin lips, blue eyes melting from ice to water in the space between heartbeats.

"Very well, Lovely Girl, I will not harm him." She opens her arms, and he sets the shamisen down on the floorboards by their feet. "I will allow it." The words are spoken quietly, but the electric joy in them is unmistakable. "One hug. No more."

And she dives forward. "You're early, Niisama."

He runs a clawed hand through her hair, and she tugs his braid once. "You changed your address." The youkai says again, and kisses her temple whispering quietly against her hair. "And you made yourself terribly difficult to find." There's an edge of displeasure humming beneath the surface.

"I meant to write to you, but I didn't know where you would be." She lets go of him, finally, and gestures for him to sit on the porch beside her. He chooses to rest his head in her lap instead, and curls around her feet so casually it might as well be habit. "How did you learn about my marriage?"

"Habiki." And now he sounds bored, and Madara can finally move again.

Kanae raises her gaze to him. "Madara-sama, come meet my brother." She prods Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya's cheek. "You promised not to harm him."

The youkai sighs. "Yes, I did."

And Madara is not entirely sure what to think about his wife's most adored brother, the one she speaks to in such casual tones.

He'd been uneasy around Habiki because the snake-man had a strange chakra presence. There is no chakra presence around this birdlike man, only bloodlust. She'd said that her brother was predisposed to violence.

"I will not eat you." That drawl is bored. _No, she said specifically that her beloved Niisama enjoyed cutting people into shark bait._ Despite how submissive he'd made the gesture of sitting by her feet, Madara has no doubt that her brother could snap her spine with his bare hands in the space of a blink, and if she were not his sister, he'd have no hesitation.

"I didn't think you would." And he steps forward, because this is still his own house.

Kyoya laughs, and rises, offering one clawed hand. "I like you, Fire Breather." There is an unholy smile on his face. "Bloodlust does not freeze you long, and you do not run." Somehow, Madara doubts that running will help him escape.

Madara takes his hand with a smile of his own, the claws are as sharp as knives, but the youkai tilts his hand in such a way that they do not cut. "She tells me you have never lost."

The other man, and perhaps he is a man after all, despite his alien features, throws back his head and laughs. It sounds like splintering ice. "You should not fight me, Fire Breather. I will not take my sister away." Amused blue eyes watch him for a moment longer. "You may call me Kyoya."

"Then I am Uchiha Madara, _Kyoya._ " He wonders why the press around the word is so heavy, and how Kanae's eldest brother interacts with his other siblings.

It is clear that he adores Kanae, who currently rises to her feet. "I'm running out of thread, is there something particular that you want to eat tonight, Madara-sama, Niisama?''

"I am not staying for dinner, Lovely Girl." Kyoya waves at her, as she steps past him. "I will see you when the wind turns."

"No, not really." Madara says, still entirely distracted by the fact that Uzumaki Ashina's bastard son is in his yard, and that the man acts like a prince or a king. _He wears pride like a cloak on his shoulders._

Kanae turns, and looks long and hard at her brother. "May the wind under your wings never falter."

He bows to her, a hand over his heart. "And may your heart always guide you to the course that is true."

She nods once, and goes.

They end up sitting on opposite sides of the low table, sipping tea. "You have slept with my sister." The bird-man says, rather casually, while watching Madara with heavy blue eyes over the rim of his teacup.

"Hn." He's sure that he blushes, because his neck burns.

"You would be the first to achieve that distinction then, and most likely the last." Kyoya says rather calmly, as if speaking about the weather. "I will tell you that I find no particular desire to kill you at the moment."

"You promised her that you would not harm me." Madara doesn't trust this promise very much. He strongly suspects that he would not win should he fight the being on the other side of the table, as soon as that being stopped pretending to act like a man, constrained by the limitations of men.

"I do not consider myself particularly bound by promises." Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya smiles a maddening smile. "My people live by strength, and we feast on those that are weak. It is the nature of our beast."

"You are half man." Madara reminds him, because no matter what, Kanae still adored him. "And your sister loves you."

"I will tell you," Kyoya says, without acknowledging Madara's statement. _Why does Kanae love him? What does she see that is so beautifully worthy of adoration?_ "That I lived eighteen years without bowing to anyone." He swirls the tea leaves around in his cup. "The night Kanae was born, I knelt, and I have been kneeling ever since. Be careful of how easily she consumes you." He sets the cup down on the table. "She can take care of herself, but I expect you not to hurt her."

"Niisan won't." It's Izuna, standing by the door.

When the bird-man rises to examine his Otouto, Madara finds himself between them. "And this is my brother. You will keep your hands _off of him._ "

"Niisan?" It's still Izuna, who can't see the alien nature of Kanae's eldest brother, can't see his avian features and the bloodthirsty gleam in those ocean blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya reaches out with a surprisingly gentle hand over Madara's shoulder, and cups Izuna's chin. "You were not always blind." There is a pensive, thoughtful cast to his words. "Who did you give up your strength for?"

Izuna doesn't so much as flinch. "I gave up no strength." His hand wraps around Kyoya's wrist, and pulls it away. "We are always more than the sum of our parts."

"Well spoken." He turns his gaze to Madara once more, and this time there is no bloodlust, no overwhelming feeling of drowning. "And well done. I leave my Lovely Girl to your hands." He turns, and picks up the shamisen, and in an instant, he is no longer a man wearing blue-black clothes, but a black winged bird, each wing the length of a tall man.

And then he is only a speck against the sun.

* * *

It is late that evening, when the room is lit by seals and the water of his bath is pleasantly warm, when Kanae stops humming as she rinses his hair. "Did Niisama threaten you?"

"Not in so many words." And now that Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya is gone, a spark of irritation flares in his chest. He dislikes being threatened as a general rule, he dislikes being threatened in his own house even more. He dislikes the idea that he cannot protect what is his-his Kanae, his Izuna, they are his and they always will be-the most.

He sinks down further into the water, and her hands are steady on his scalp. "I won't tell you that he wasn't trying to offend you." There's a note of amusement in her voice as she says this. "I mean, he probably was, knowing him."

"The water is too hot." He mutters quietly, and reaches out to fiddle with the seal himself. "Why do I feel like I am an ingredient in tomorrow's breakfast?"

She giggles and taps the seal. "Madara-sama, no one is going to _eat_ you."

He sinks further. "Why do you even like him?"

She blinks, and continues rinsing his hair. "Because he's Niisama?" And this time, she doesn't sound adoring, just amused. "Because he will eventually get around to doing everything that I ask of him?"

"He is decidedly discomfiting." It's as if her eldest brother could crawl around under other people's skin with just a look. _She must really love you._

And now that he isn't distracted anymore, Hashirama's words come back. "Hashirama told me, that your sister said-"

"I love you?" Kanae sighs, and her hands stop. "I knew this was going to come back and hurt me later." She sounds...frustrated. "I told Neesan that because she wouldn't understand why I am here otherwise."

And suddenly he remembers exactly why she is here. _She was sold._ The thought makes him sick. _She doesn't mean this. None of this._

"Madara-sama?"

He sits up. "You can leave. I'll do it myself." Of course it didn't have to do with how much she liked him. She probably didn't even actually like him.

She doesn't have a choice in the matter.

"I don't want to." Her hands on his shoulders press him back to the position he'd previously occupied. "Madara-sama, your mind has gone to dark places again." She leans in to whisper the next words in his ear. "Tell me about them?"

"They sold you, and now you are obligated." It sounds silly now that he says this, because obligation doesn't cover what she's done for him. Those that are obligated to be wives do not generally sit washing his hair and humming. They don't do the things she's done.

They are not happy where they are, and he likes to think that sometimes she is happy, and that sometimes he contributes.

"I sold myself, and I am not obligated." She wraps an arm around his neck, hand coming to a stop over his heart. "Who do you think it was, that gave Chichi the idea?"

"You did?" The thought shakes him. "You wanted to end up here?"

"It was that or be married off to Senju Tobirama." She says the words Senju Tobirama, and they might as well be Senju Bastard.

"Never." The vitriol in his own voice surprises him. She raises an eyebrow and he feels the need to justify himself. "I am better."

"Yes." She laughs, and it is joyous and sweet, and he feels the knot in his chest relax. _She hates Senju Tobirama just as much as I do._ "Besides." She whispers from next to him. "If I dislike you so much, I could just boil you in the tub, yes?"

That teasing edge to her voice sets every nerve of his on fire. He turns, and dumps the cupped water in his hands over her head. "Maybe I'll boil you in the tub."

She splutters and gasps, and looks so indignant that he laughs until his sides ache. "Come here." He pulls her closer. "I'll wash your hair."

"You just want to spend more time playing with it." She pouts at him. "Isn't it supposed to be headache red?" She'll never let him forget it then. _I tell you it is headache red once, and that is all you'll ever say to me._

He pulls the corners of her mouth up until they are smiling once more. "I am going to relish the fact that Senju Tobirama will never touch it." _Even if he touches everything else. And ruins everything else._

She turns around, green eyes laughing at him. "I don't think he's fascinated, Madara-sama."

 _No._ He thinks. "He better not be."

* * *

 **A.N.** Somewhat happier chapter. And the mysterious Niisama makes an appearance. Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya is a very strange amalgamation of things.

Thank you so much to TheSilenceIsVast, wyteeth (Yeah, Madara is quite a mess. And things in the future...are strange.), Miss Nanami-chan (Strangely enough, even through his depression, Madara can have really humorous internal monologue. It's a little strange at times.), angelcorus, and Mikalette (I've never thought about Drunk!Madara that way. I'll need to consider it.) for reviewing!

And everyone else who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	8. The Crow

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"You're bound to fast, bound to grieve

But you're built to balance on two feet

So why you living this last year from your knees?"

-Dessa, _The Crow_

* * *

Hashirama is still his better at hand to hand taijutsu, which hasn't changed since they were both eight years old.

This is of course, because his gunbai and kama have been banned from the fight on the premise that they would offer an unfair amount of reach, which would cause Hashirama to use Mokuton, which would cause undue destruction in the village. Which, he supposes, is true enough.

There is no reason to tear Konoha down, and change the landscape simply for a spar. He is marginally fond of this village, and Hashirama would be inconsolable should it be destroyed.

That does not mean that he is not annoyed by the idea that he is fighting Hashirama, and _losing._

Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya had just declined to fight him, just last _month._ The man had said something along the lines of 'you don't want to fight me, because I would curb stomp you over my sister' even though he'd clearly issued a challenge.

What sort of man doesn't take the challenge to fight when it's phrased as "I heard you've never lost?"

Losing to Hashirama right now grates on his pride in all the wrong ways.

"Well Mada?" Hashirama holds a fist over his throat. "Do you yield?"

Their position at the moment cannot be said to be completely proper. Hashirama has a knee on his stomach, and he is in an unfortunately embarrassing position on the ground. Flat on his back, if he is attempting to be accurate.

He doesn't care for accuracy at the moment though, so should he have to narrate this event to Kanae, he has his back to a tree and would certainly not have Hashirama's knee pressing uncomfortably on his stomach.

"I yield when I die." Madara growls at the daft man. "Get off of me."

Hashirama laughs, and it's all the manner of clear and bright, and all things nice, and offers him a hand.

His heartbeat doesn't change. It had been up before, but strangely enough, it slows slightly now. It still squeezes uncomfortably when greeted by the same smile that has always made him focus a little more on Hashirama's lips than his eyes.

He takes the hand, because still, his pride has been brought so low today that it doesn't matter anymore.

"Hey, why don't you come over for dinner?" Hashirama offers, and his accursed heart _skips_.

"No." For one, it is hazardous to his health. For another, he has no desire to see Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito make disgusting googly eyes at each other. For another, Tobirama would be there. A thousand times no.

And privately, very very privately, he knows that Kanae would have already made dinner.

"But Mada, you never come over for dinner anymore." Hashirama sinks into inconsolable depression. "You and Izuna used to come over every week."

"And when I did, you would cry about how I would destroy your house, and how Tobi-teme and I never got along." He is not going to admit that it is his own atrocious cooking skills that caused him to seek out Hashirama's house at odd times of day in search of food.

There are some things that should never be mentioned.

"I did not cry." Hashirama protests, and Madara crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe there was once or twice when you left and I cried." The man brightens in the space between moments. "And anyway, Mito likes to cook for a lot of people, and you eat a lot, and I had breakfast at your house a while ago, so you should come over for dinner."

"No." But he is weakening. If it is one dinner, then surely Kanae and Izuna would be fine by themselves?

"Oh, just come already." Hashirama grabs his wrist and tows him off the training field. "Besides, I need you to persuade me that calling my child PrideandJoyofallofKonoha is a very bad idea."

Madara snorts. "The child will hate you forever."

Hashirama slumps. "That's what I was afraid of, but you know, if they were to be called Pride and Joy wouldn't it be nice? Wouldn't it? Wouldn't you want to be called pride and joy?"

"No." He considers it. "Though, I suppose it is no better or worse than being called _pillar._ "

Hashirama looks skeptical. "I did always wonder what kami hated you enough to make you be called _speckles_ when your brother's name is _weasel._ "

"The same sort of kami that wants your child to be named pride and joy." He snaps at the other man.

* * *

Dinner is, as he expected, uncomfortable, and makes exactly one person happy: Hashirama.

"And you know Mada, all you need to do is have a son and then we could stage a wedding!" _You're convinced you're having a daughter then?_

"No." Madara and Tobirama manage to snap at Hashirama at the exact same time, and after realizing what they've done, look at each other as though they've caught some sort of illness.

"I wouldn't trust any son of his." Tobirama hisses. "Never!"

Madara glares at him until he has the good grace to leave the table and not come back. "And in case you _forgot._ " He has his own problems with becoming more related to Hashirama in all the wrong ways. "I am that child's uncle. There's no reason to marry first cousins to each other."

Everything about bloodlines said that such an idea is a bad one.

Hashirama slumps. "I forgot. I'm an idiot." He gets up to chase after Tobirama. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into Tobi. I'll be back after I can persuade him to drink tea with us?"

Madara lets him go. Senju Hashirama ought to be next to the word hopeless in the dictionary.

"What sort of woman would want to become in-laws with her sister?" He wonders, and forgets that he's wondering out loud, and he is hardly sitting in the privacy of his own house.

"Uchiha-sama?" It's Uzumaki Mito.

The sight of her reminds him that he'd sent Kanae no prior notice that he would not be home for dinner, and he doesn't entirely know how he ought to feel about that.

"Hn?"

"Do you-" She doesn't actually finish her sentence, and he is growing more uncomfortable with the idea of eating uncomfortable dinner and spending even more time in Hashirama's house.

"Tell Hashirama I'm leaving." He rises, and heads out, heads toward home.

For a very long time, home had been where Hashirama was, even though Tobirama could be found there, often as not.

This house is home no longer.

He isn't entirely sure when his own house became more home than the house of his eldest friend.

His walk through the streets is interrupted by a brief summer thunderstorm, and by the time he makes it to the door, he is dripping.

He slides open the door, and stands there for a moment, in his well lit hallway, water pooling around his sandals.

"Madara-sama!" He sees the flash of red hair before he sees her concerned green eyes and she's unlacing his armor in the foyer. "You're completely drenched." A small hand feels his forehead. "But you don't seem very cold..."

"It's only a thunderstorm, and it is June." He has the strange desire to hug her, but he is still dripping, and she hasn't worked his breastplate off yet. It wouldn't be kind of him to do it. "Why would I be cold?"

"You could get sick." She bundles him down the hallway quickly, leaving his armor where it had been set in the doorway. "And then you'll be entirely grumpy."

He sits, a brief span of time later, on the floor of their room as she towels his hair. "Are you hungry? It's late, so we ate without you, and Izuna's gone to bed already, but I could heat the food up for you."

She doesn't ask if he's had dinner already. He suspects that she knows.

"I ate." He regrets saying this as soon as it leaves his mouth. The two words loom large in the room.

"I see." Her hands pause, and she's completely still. Two words, and he feels his heart sink into the pit opening in his stomach.

He turns around, and her eyes are shadowed. He's never seen her eyes so dull. His chest tightens. "I-" He doesn't know how to explain, doesn't know, and can't understand why, why seeing her, even though she's smiling makes him feel like he's drowning beneath the surface of some terribly deep lake.

She turns, rising, pulling hair pins from her hair. It falls around her like a bleeding curtain. "You don't have to explain, Madara-sama." She sounds tired, and she hasn't sounded like this before either. "I understand." She knows that he likes to unpin her hair.

He pulls her back. "I won't do it again." It seems like such a small barrier to set against the flood.

Her hair is silk beneath his hands. "Oh?" She sounds so tired, and his breath freezes.

"I missed something important, didn't I?" He has to ask, because were it another day, it would be different. It wouldn't feel like she is sinking farther away from him with every passing moment.

He has missed dinner before. She has not reacted this way before.

"You didn't know." She is pulling herself together, piece by piece, gathering herself together, but she has not pushed him away.

He did not understand the extent he needs her happiness until she is no longer happy. He never wants to see her unhappy again. "What did I miss?"

"I-I am eighteen today. Tonight." _She-_ He'd left her alone.

"What would you like?" He brushes the long strands of her hair away from her face. "I will give you anything you'd like."

She laughs, wetly against his neck. "Stay alive, Madara-sama. Stay alive." _Your life. It will be enough._

Even now, she asks for what he is capable of giving. "I promise you. I will." He closes his eyes. "But ask for something that belongs to you." He examines his heart, and wonders if there isn't a corner of it that has been stamped with someone else's fingerprints. Hashirama held a lion's share of it. The dead held a great deal rest of it. Izuna held the remainder.

But he wants her to ask, if only to force him to pry it away from someone so that he might-might stop.

"Tell me why you want to be Hokage?" Her fingers trace the pattern of scars over one shoulder, over the fabric of his shirt.

He hadn't thought she'd ask for a story. "When I was a boy..." He sighs. The spectres of the past loom large tonight. He can feel the heavy press of his Chichi-ue's disapproving glare, can feel his Haha-ue's leaden despair. "I buried three younger brothers, and dreamed of peace."

"Mmmm." Her fingers ghost over twisting scar over his side. Tobirama's sword stroke.

That one proved that he'd been fast enough to protect Izuna, even as he'd been going blind. That one bought their peace, Hashirama's marriage...and his own. What a strange thing it is that she is so fascinated with that scar when it is what caused her to be here by his side.

"And then...I met Senju Hashirama. We were friends. He had the same dreams, despite how my clan warred with his." He pauses for a moment. "I buried my brothers because of the Senju." The contradiction has always been another nail in his unfortunate connection with Hashirama.

The betrayal of his clan, the dream of peace realized. No matter which path he chose, he'd still be wrong, but he isn't allowed to regret it after he chooses.

He'd chosen peace, and five ghostly faces would always haunt him. More than five, the ones that had died before he could concede to peace will be there, blurry around the edges.

She touches his cheek, and he realises that it is not her fingers that are wet. "Yet you made peace with them."

"It is a peace built on the sacrifice of my family." The words settle to the bottom of his heart. "I would give anything to protect it."

"So that's why you want to be Hokage?" The hand behind his back plays with the ends of his hair. "And why it hurts you to love Hashirama-san so, it feels like you're turning your back on your brothers?"

He has to laugh at this. _I just thought that, Kanae._ "You know me so well."

"You are not as hard to read as you think, Madara-sama." And yet no one else reads him as easily as she does these days, not even Izuna, who used to know everything except that his preoccupation with Hashirama is neither friendship nor hatred.

"Ask me for my heart." If she asks, maybe he could give it to her. Maybe it wouldn't feel so ghostly then. Maybe he'd stop feeling guilty. Maybe he'd be alive. Maybe he'd stop making such a fool of himself.

"A heart is given, Madara-sama." She says slowly, a hand against his chest. "It cannot be demanded when it belongs to someone else." She leans up, and kisses the underside of his jaw, breath ghosting over his pulse. "Asking would be extortion." She knows very well that he can't give it, that it doesn't belong to him.

"Then ask me for something of mine." _Be careful of how she consumes you._

"Your hope." Her eyes are the palest shade of green, and her hair is a red so dark as to almost be black. "And let my hope be yours." She is stronger than he is, younger, and she does this for his benefit, not her own.

"You ask me to stop protesting." He kisses her temple, the corner of her eye, each fingertip in turn. "I'll listen."

 _Be careful of how she consumes you._

It is of course, no good. He is already consumed.

* * *

As it turns out, he does get sick from wandering about in the rain. "Must you get up?" This is a foolish question by all accounts, because she does have to make breakfast, or they will all be hungry.

At the moment though, the space between her shoulder blades is very cool, and he is uncomfortably warm.

"Madara-sama." She shifts, and he has to shift with her. "I need to touch you to heal you." He supposes that she can wipe the uncomfortable warmth from him until it cools to pleasant, but it would take so much effort to bother.

He huffs, and refuses to let her go. "It's just a cold."

"But you said that you wouldn't get sick, and then you did." She makes a fair point, but if he lets go then she will be gone for quite some time.

"Stay." _For one day, just stay._ She is never there when he truly wakes.

She leaves in the space between half sleep and wakefulness, and appears again to prod him into actually leaving bed.

There was a time when he would wake at the slightest disturbance, a time when not waking would mean a kunai across the throat. There was a time when he wouldn't need to sleep, a time when the slightest touch was enough to draw tension to his spine. There was a time when the women who shared his bed were people he didn't feel like seeing in the morning. There was a time no one stayed in his bed longer than a night.

Perhaps there is some small measure of peace in him now. It phases him no longer.

"Let me turn around? I promise I won't leave if you let go, Madara-sama." It would mean giving up the space between her shoulder blades.

But she has promised not to get up.

He concedes, and she turns, her fingertips trailing over his forehead. The uncomfortable warmth recedes.

"Is there anything you cannot do?" He kisses the center of her palm as her fingers pause over his jaw.

"I have not harpooned a whale." She tells him, very seriously, and he chuckles. _What a funny thing to say._ She often says these sorts of phrases, little colloquialisms in her speech, and sometimes he doesn't understand them. This one is amusing though, trying to imagine her slender arms harpooning a whale is like trying to imagine life on the sun.

"-like children, Madara-sama?"

"Hmmm?" The sunlight forces him to open his eyes, and her hair glows. This close, it seems as though there are strands of gold mixed in with the red. A thousand shades of red.

How he had ever thought it too bright is a mystery that he cannot solve. How he'd ever thought her face faded, he doesn't even begin to fathom.

"Do you like children, Madara-sama?" She repeats for him, a sigh.

"Is there an announcement that you'd want to make if I say that I do?" He does not think that this is what she really means. There would be nothing roundabout regarding her convictions.

"No." She huffs, and shakes her head. "I just wondered."

"I-" It is expected that the clan has an heir, but the clan has yet to worry. He is young.

She is young. Their marriage is young. _Has it only been four months?_

 _It has only been four months._ "We have no obligation to hurry." If he can find so little heart for her, what could he potentially find for a son or a daughter?

But time changes him. If it has changed him in four months, then perhaps it would change him more in another year.

Perhaps he'd be able to persuade himself to let go.

"You don't know if you like children." She's musing out loud. It's not really for him. He really only needs to correct her if she's wrong. "Or, you don't know...if you can like a child."

"Mmm." Perhaps this is what contentment means. A person who understands what he leaves unspoken. A person who forgives his errors. A person who cares. "Kanae?"

Her breathing is even and deep. She does not respond.

 _Now who is the one who wishes to stay in bed?_

* * *

In the middle of August, Konoha greets a delegation from the Land of Lightning, and the newly created Kumogakure no Sato.

If he has to say something about it, it would be peeved. _How dare they steal my naming method? How dare they even compete with Konoha?_

 _How dare they step foot in the city that so many have bled for?_

 _How dare they. How dare they. How dare-_

But then again, Hashirama isn't one to listen to reason or common sense. And so his protests fall on deaf ears.

Hashirama lets the party from Kumo into the city, and insists on breaking bread with them.

"Guest right is an important right!" He says, and nearly bounces through the office. "And this way, they know we won't harm them."

"I'm not worried about us harming them." Madara rubs his temples with his hands, and prays to the Kami that he doesn't snap and murder Hashirama right now. The man had invited three foreign enemies into his own home when he is also expecting the heir to his legacy. Senju Hashirama is either an idiot, crazy, or legendary and possibly an unfortunate combination of all three. "I'm worried about them harming us."

It seems that Tobirama had agreed with this assessment. _He_ was still in the Senju compound doing his best to shadow Uzumaki Mito like an overly armored puppy guard.

And that left Madara here in the office, attempting to persuade Hashirama to just kick the foreigners out or kill them or put them somewhere else, anywhere else.

It isn't going well.

"But Mada, they're here for peace! Isn't that fantastical? We're making a difference in the world like we always thought we would!" Hashirama is still bouncing.

"You're fantastical." Madara mutters from the corner of his mouth. "You're also idiotic and stupid and about to get all of us killed."

"I don't think so." Hashirama's suddenly serious again. "Remember when we stopped fighting? Everyone said that it couldn't be done, that the Senju and the Uchiha have too much hatred between us to ever coexist, and yet here we are."

"You used extortion. Izuna couldn't not agree to peace." In the face of his own injured state at the time, Izuna had crumpled like a statue made of sand.

His life had been worth more than clan pride to his beloved little brother.

"That is not what I meant." Hashirama slaps a hand on the table before him. "We have to offer the olive branch. It's up to them to accept, but we can't just not offer it, especially since they've come all this way already."

"Do what you want." Madara turns away. "It's clear that you listen to no one anyway."

He doesn't know how Hashirama rushes on, headfirst into hope and optimism when he'd buried so many, why the other man seemed to see the world through rose tinted glasses.

Sometimes it fascinates him, but right now, the idea is just jarring. "You never listen to anyone with sense anyway."

"You don't either." Hashirama's moved around the desk now. "What's really the matter, Madara? You've been just so grumpy all the time." And it's impossible to ignore Hashirama. It really is. "Did you have a fight with Kanae-chan? Izuna-kun?"

 _You. I've been having problems with your wooden-headed stupid._ "No. I've _not. You are just a stupid fool who will get us all killed._ " He rises. "I'm going home Hashirama. You can eat with them and die for all I care."

"You don't mean that." And sometimes, Hashirama is strangely perceptive. "Mada, I know you care about Konoha. I know you want peace. I've had to defend your actions to Tobi and the rest of the Senju for years. I believe in your dreams because they're my dreams too." _You don't know the first thing about my dreams._ "I just wish you'd be happy, that you'd understand how I see it." A pause. Madara doesn't turn around. "Come to dinner with Kanae-chan and Izuna-kun, Madara. We need to be united or they'll decide they don't need to treat with us."

And unfortunately that makes sense.

"Leave Izuna out of this." He'd go then, with Kanae.

But he wouldn't like it.

* * *

 **A.N.** In which there are more political things on the horizon...and Kanae and Madara have a discussion about their pasts.

It's too late to mention that this is an alternate universe isn't it? Because I've finally figured out why Izuna is still alive. (Madara stuck himself in the Izuna-Tobirama fight and got himself nearly killed. Hashirama volunteers Senju healers, because he knows that Madara would be dying. Of course Madara wouldn't say something like "Don't listen to them!" and Izuna who hates Senju, loves his brother more than he hates Senju. Fighting ceased so that Senju healers could save Madara's life. War ended.)

Also song rec for this chapter: Poison and Wine by the Civil Wars.

Thanks so much to Lixx22 (Yeah sorry about Bloodless. Madara is eating my brain, and Kanae is helping him.), Miss Nanami-chan (Yes, on occasion they are adorable, and on other occasions, well...they are really quite angsty.), Sam, MidnaMoo, LittleMissSugarLess, wyteeth (Oh yes. Kyoya is a fantastical bird-man who is really interesting. Alas...albatrosses like to wander so he'll be showing up infrequently.), and rickrossed (I think Hashirama's insensitive because it's from Madara's point of view. Hashirama tries very hard, but Madara's perception of him is something of a cross between 'wooden blockhead' and 'that idiot' so it doesn't help matters.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	9. Empty Space

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

Expect sadness like you expect rain

Both cleanse you.

-Nayyirah Waheed, _Salt._

* * *

"Niisan, I'm going." Izuna stands in the doorway, in his best clothes, arms crossed.

There's a stab of irritation working its way from his mind to his heart while looking at his beloved Otouto in the doorway. "You are not going." Madara snaps. He'd only told Izuna about the diplomatic dinner because he'd wanted to vent over Hashirama's stupidity, but it seems that stupidity is contagious. It's spread to Izuna as well.

Hence, the current dilemma: Izuna wants to go.

"I am going, Niisan." There's a dangerous edge to Izuna's voice now, and his knuckles are white against the darkness of his shirt as he radiates disapproval in Madara's direction.

"You are... _not._ " This is a childish argument. If Izuna wants so badly to go to a most likely boring diplomatic dinner, then Madara shouldn't be stopping him. He's a grown man, and perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

Worry, however, makes all of this logic meaningless. Izuna would be the most vulnerable one at the table, being the blind man. He refuses to lose another brother. Refuses to lose another family member. There is no amount of pleading that can change him.

"Madara-sama?" A small hand on his elbow. _Kanae._ "Is the dinner going to be dangerous?"

He cannot say yes. For one, it would worry her. Her sister is the hostess at the dinner table. For another, it would make Izuna furious to be mollycoddled even if that is exactly what he is attempting to do.

"No." The word is like forcing a boulder up his throat, unwilling and just plain terrible.

"Then it is perfectly fine for me to go." Izuna uncrosses his arms and grins triumphantly. "Unless you want to ban me just because you plan to spend the entire night playing with Neesan's hair, and don't want me to hear about it. And in that case I have to tell you that I can't see it anyway."

The tips of his ears _burn. I am not going to be playing with Kanae's hair. I do not play with-oh fine. I do. How do you even know about that, Otouto?_ "You are a horrible human being, Otouto." He hisses at his completely unrepentant flesh and blood. To think that he'd wanted to protect this-this-"I ought to kick you down a well."

"Neesan!" Izuna wails in mock horror. "Look at how much Niisan bullies me!"

Kanae pats him on the head. "I'm sure that it isn't so, Izuna-kun."

"No, it's because he has you now." Says the traitorous Izuna, who must be the worst of younger siblings everywhere. "I'm being replaced."

"Stop teasing Madara-sama, Izuna-kun." She laughs and pats Izuna's head some more. "He'll actually feel guilty soon." When she turns back to Madara, her eyes are laughing.

 _I am guilty now._

"I am _not_ replacing you."

"Un. I know, Niisan." Izuna smiles, and turns to do whatever it is that he still has to do. "But I will be very unhappy if you leave me behind."

"I won't." He's conceded already. It is terrible to be reminded of it.

It is a diplomatic dinner, so he cannot drag the gunbai and kama all the way there. He slides his wakizashi through his belt instead. It will have to be enough.

Across the room, Kanae sits at the vanity, pinning up her hair, twist by twist, a bun more elaborate than any he's seen her wear so far. These hairpins are invisible as she finishes. She's wearing a dark tomesode that actually sweeps the floor. The spiral of Uzu is on her shoulder, but the Uchiwa looms large on her back.

He comes to stand behind her. "You have new clothes." His fingers trace his clan crest over the space between her shoulder blades, and he wonders how a woman so proud of her family would be willing to wear hers on her shoulder, but his in the place of greater prominence.

 _My hope._

"Does it bother you?" She sounds absent, as she checks for stray strands of hair.

"Bother me?" _Why would it?_ "Never."

She opens the jewelry box, and pulls out a net of pearls. "Madara-sama?"

"Hmm?" When she has her hair pinned up, every strand like this, the column of her neck is exposed, and that is distracting. She kept some hair down most of the time.

"Can you help me put the net in? I can't see the back of my head, so it will be crooked if I do." She holds out the net of black pearls, and he takes it in his hands.

"How should I put it in?" There are white bone combs attached to the net.

"They are curved, yes, the combs?"

"Mmmm." They are. The pearls are not the same shape as the red one she'd offered him in Uzu. They are perfectly round, and the exact same size.

He wonders how much they'd be worth. Only noblewomen really wore pearls in Fire Country, but they must be common in Uzu, seeing how easily she wore so many, in all sorts of colors.

"Turn the curved edge of the comb towards my head, and slide one in on one side of the bun." She takes his hand, and they slide the first comb in together. "And then match the other comb on the other side. It has to be even."

But exactly how even? It is better to be safe.

"Madara-sama?"

"I'm concentrating." He slides the comb in, as she powders her neck, and carefully paints her lips purple.

She turns, and her fingers glide over his jaw. "Was the sharingan really necessary?"

He has her hair in his memory forever now. He has her smile, her laughing eyes. It is enough.

He can't stop himself from smiling back at her. "You said it had to be even." Her happiness inspires contentment.

She giggles, and hugs him. "Thank you, Madara-sama. I appreciate the effort."

He sets a hand on her shoulder. She fits perfectly under his chin. "Mmm." A brilliant idea occurs to him. "Could you poison them?"

"Who?"

"The delegation from Kumogakure." _They really ought not live. I shouldn't let them live._

"I could." She seems to be considering it. "But I won't." She turns away, and he lets her go. She pulls a pair of moon bladed knives from the bottom of her jewelry box, and slides them into her sleeves. "It is below my honor to murder someone at a dinner table under the guise of peace."

And he has to concede that too. "Very well."

She tucks a hand in the crook of his elbow. And her eyes are laughing once more. "Is diplomatic dinner really so terrible to you?"

He huffs, and they step out into the hallway. "It is not dinner. It is a conflagration of things."

* * *

"And this is Uchiha Madara." Hashirama waves in his direction as they draw closer to the visiting party, currently sitting on Hashirama's porch. "He is the co-founder of Konoha, and my dearest friend."

He hasn't been here in two months, not since the night he made a mess of things. He really rather not be back here, but there isn't a choice in the matter. Hashirama is hosting, and that is final.

Two men and a woman. He hasn't met them before this. It might have been rude of him, but he doesn't particularly care.

"Yotsuki Kikyo." A man with close cropped dark hair and deep set eyes observes the three of them intently. "My sister, Kana." The woman wears her hair longer, but not as long as either of the Uzumaki sisters, in a high tail with two locks framing her face, skin a shade darker than Hashirama's tan. Once upon a time, Madara would have called her beautiful. She bows and murmurs some form of pleasantry that he does not catch. "And Imai Tanyu." The other man, Imai, does not bow.

Madara makes an attempt at a pleasant smile. "My brother, Uchiha Izuna."

Izuna tilts his head with unerring accuracy towards the visiting party. "A pleasure to meet you."

"And my wife." He is about to say more, but-

"Uchiha Kanae." Kanae laughs, and dances forward, taking the visiting woman's hands. "And how do you write your name?"

Madara stands frozen. Time seems to have stopped for a moment. _She called herself Uchiha Kanae._

 _Is this what hope is?_

"The kanji for beauty." The woman responds. "And crow."

And Kanae _shines._ Like the rising sun, she shines. "How lovely. I write mine with the characters for grace and crow. So we share a name, yes?" She laughs and dances over to Yotsuki and Imai, but she does not bow. "It is nice to meet you."

She is not normally so _vibrant._ He considers for a moment, that she might actually like these sorts of gatherings. What a pity it is that he does not.

Hashirama rises. "Well, now that we're all here, we should head to dinner."

The seating arrangements are not Hashirama's most well thought out plan, not that Hashirama is particularly good at planning. He sits with the Yotsuki siblings on his either side, the sister to his left, the brother to his right. Imai sits to the right of Yotsuki Kikyo.

Madara sits with Imai to his right, and Izuna to his left. Mito sits between Izuna and her sister.

Tobirama is unfortunately stuck between Kanae and Yotsuki Kana. He looks incensed.

Madara would be more amused about this if he wasn't concerned about the man to his right, and what would happen should a fight break out.

Hashirama seems to be planning a hostage situation of Yotsuki Kikyo's sister between himself and Tobirama if things go south. Or maybe he is simply trying to spread the guests out so that they can 'mingle and have fun, Mada.'

Knowing Hashirama, Madara wouldn't put it past him to have such a daft reason for these choices.

It just also puts Hashirama at the center of three hostile situations, and Izuna exactly one body away from a man that could potentially kill him.

Madara is not amused the slightest.

At least Mito had the good grace to volunteer to switch seats with her sister so that Tobirama and Kanae are not sitting together, because that would have made Madara's blood boil all night, and probably end with Tobirama's unfortunate humiliation.

Unfortunately, Kanae seems to like the idea of Tobirama's further humiliation as well, because she declines her sister's offer to switch seats with a laugh. "No, this way I can speak to my new friend through my lovely Tobi- _nii._ "

Tobirama barely bites back a growl, but seems to maintain his self control just a little bit. Madara is almost disappointed. It would be nice to see Tobirama lose all of his self control for once, just once.

Most of the time, their shouting matches end with him in a worse state than Tobirama, if only because Tobirama knows exactly what to say to be the most cutting.

"I can't help but notice," Yotsuki Kikyo begins. "That the Uchiha don't seem as spread out as the rest of us in this seating arrangement."

The man is subtly poking at Izuna, who is sitting beside the one who could probably best defend him, making not so subtle jabs at his otouto's blindness.

Madara reminds himself that this dinner is diplomatic so he shouldn't attempt to stab the man two seats away from him through the throat with his chopsticks. He then has to remind himself that if he keeps gripping the chopsticks so tightly he'll have to get new chopsticks.

"Kikyo-san." Kanae says, airily, her eyes mocking, but her tone as gentle as ever. "I can't help but notice that you seem dissatisfied with the seating arrangements."

The man has the audacity to leer at her with hooded eyes. "I have a few ideas for how I could be satisfied." Madara hears his chopsticks snap, feels the wooden splinters dig into his flesh.

His blood roars in his ears.

Izuna squeezes his knee, hard and passes him a new pair of chopsticks. He remembers that this is supposed to be diplomatic dinner, so he is not allowed to rip Yotsuki Kikyo's entrails out of his throat with bare hands.

Kanae tilts her head, a wide sleeve covering the bottom half of her face. "I'm afraid I would be very unsatisfied in those situations that you're imagining, Kikyo-san."

Tobirama snorts into his soup. "How crass."

Hashirama blinks. "Wh-"

"I apologize for my countryman." Imai Tanyu has opened his mouth at last. "But I believe we were speaking of peace accords between my village and yours?"

"Oh, peace!" Hashirama brightens. "But let's talk about peace later, and eat now!" And yet again, his eyes and Mito's meet across the table. "We've got a special delicacy tonight." He pulls out a bottle of what must be sake, though Madara is hardly aware what sort of special this particular bottle of sake is. "Our visitors were so kind as to bring us wine from their country."

 _What sort of stupid are you?_ Madara isn't sure he wants to believe what is going on. "Hashirama." He glares at the bottle of certain poison. "Put that away. No one wants to drink sake."

"Oh, but this isn't sake." The Yotsuki woman says, voice soft, and eyes downcast. "Amazake is very special in the Land of Lightning, and it has very little alcohol content, if that is what you were concerned about, Uchiha-dono."

He isn't concerned about the alcohol content. He's concerned about whatever it is besides a harmless drink.

"Ah, stop being so worried, Madara." Hashirama chuckles. "I wasn't completely stupid. It's been tested and it's fine." _What did you test it on?_ "Besides, if any of us suffer any problems, I doubt they'll escape Konoha alive."

 _If you asked them to drink it that's like asking a snake to drink water._ Madara glances in Kanae's direction.

She closes her eyes, a slightly long suffering look on her face. It soothes his soul, because it's exactly how he'd want to look as well.

Hashirama leans forward, and pours it for all of the guests at his table, starting with Yotsuki Kana pausing as he comes to Mito. "Darling?"

"Not tonight, Anata." Mito smiles. "Only tea for me."

"Of course, Darling." They spend an impressive amount of time looking like they want to escape to a room all to themselves. Madara does his best not to gag. Hashirama skips Mito and continues.

Madara resolves not to touch a drop.

Of course, the next thing Hashirama does is propose a toast, because the man is dumb and irritating.

Everyone around the table takes a sip. "See?" Yotsuki Kikyo murmurs sarcastically after no one starts convulsing. "A big fuss about nothing."

The night continues. Madara is still not convinced.

* * *

Two hours in, Hashirama's broken out his own stash of aged sake from his cellar, and only the foreign men and Tobirama are still drinking with him.

The idea of a seating arrangement has devolved quite a bit as well, as the seats are pushed back.

Madara does not touch the sake, if only because he remembers quite hazily what had happened the last time he drank. _It will do no good whatsoever to become a drunkard._

 _Better to let Hashirama charm who he needs to charm._

Izuna is carrying a rather decent conversation with Mito. Madara is doing his best to listen.

"So, have you thought of names for the child yet?" Izuna has always known more what to say than he has.

"We haven't chosen a daughter's name yet, but we have chosen Isao for a son." Mito has a hand over her stomach protectively.

Izuna smiles. "Senju Isao, a brave man of a thousand skills. It is a good name."

Mito smiles back at him, although it doesn't touch her eyes. "Hashirama firmly believes that his eldest child will be a daughter."

"And you, Mito-san?" The conversation bores him, but the idea of playing drinking games with the other six members of the table bores him even more. He closes his eyes, and listens instead.

"I know that this is my eldest son."

The peace is total. Madara drifts in the land of half sleep.

A cup shatters across the floor. "I can't believe that you would insult me so much." Kanae hisses.

His hand is on his wakizashi before he even realizes what is going on.

"To think that you would even attempt to use poison while I'm at the table." She sounds betrayed, sounds bitter, sounds like she is one step away from screaming.

The visitors have drawn together.

Hashirama looks pale, holding his chest with a hand, a droplet of blood falling from his chin.

His heart stops, but his mind keeps on. _I told you that this would happen._ But everyone else had also drank the amazake.

It is only Hashirama who has been-

Madara turns imperceptibly, just a little to Izuna in the confusion, because _kami._ If he loses Izuna as well-

Chains made of pure chakra slam all three of their guests into a wall. It's pretty, hesitant, pregnant Mito, her arms raised before her, face twisted with fury. " _You._ " She snarls, and she looks like something risen from the deeps.

Madara advances on them with leaden feet. "What the hell did you _do?_ "

"Tobirama." It's Kanae, who seems to have take charge of the situation, standing before Hashirama with her hands on his chest. They glow green in the light of the candles. "I need a basin of water." She pulls the net of pearls from her hair with a hand.

Tobirama seems to have frozen completely, eyes blankly unseeing, horror dripping from every feature. "Hashi- _nii._.." Madara has never seen him quite so _weak_ before.

" _Now."_ Her last word jolts Tobirama into action, and he goes. "Madara-sama?"

Izuna is uninjured. It is only Hashirama. _Never only. Never only._ He wants to roast the three across the room alive. He could do it, but he doubts that would save Hashirama. His free hand shakes, but his blade is steady.

He wants to kill them, has his sword against the woman's throat. _She'd been sitting between Hashirama and Tobirama._

 _Kanae prevented Tobirama from drinking, but she couldn't prevent Hashirama from being stupid._

His heart lurches in his chest. _You stupid. Stupid. Stupid-_ It is his fault. He should have protested further. He should have done something, should have-

"Madara-sama!" Back to this moment. Kanae is asking him for something. "There is a black lacquer box on the fourth shelf of the kitchen cabinet. I need it. This isn't something I can cure without the antidote."

Hashirama gasps. "Imouto..."

The last thing Madara sees as his feet fly out the door is Kanae brushing Hashirama's hair away from his face in one slow motion. "Hush." She whispers. "You'll be alright."

* * *

By the time he gets back, the box in his hands, Hashirama seems to be better, slightly. Not dead. Izuna is holding Tobirama back from murdering the three Kumo shinobi that Mito still has pinned to the wall, whispering frantically in his ear.

Mito shows no sign of fatigue, no sign of worry. She still looks angry enough to rip throats out with her teeth.

In contrast, Kanae looks incredibly concerned. "How much of it did you drink, Hashirama-nii?"

Madara doesn't know what the box is, only that Kanae seems to think that she'll need it.

Seeing as she is the expert, he's willing to believe her.

Anything to save Hashirama. Anything at all. It would be enough. It has to be enough. He cannot _lose. Not again. Not again. Never again._

"You won't be able to save him. You don't have the antidote for this." It's the Yotsuki woman. "This was going to be a suicide mission anyway."

Kanae tosses her head back and laughs. It sounds like a crow's cry, cutting, angry. "Who do you think I am?" In the light of the candles, her smile is razor sharp. "Besides, isn't your choice of technique just a little too crass?" Madara passes her the box, silently.

"Poison is meant for killing." Yotsuki Kikyo grits, though the wall around his wrists are turning red, blood dripping from his bleeding wrists.

Uzumaki Mito has no mercy it seems. Not for those who wish to kill her husband.

"Yes, but you've such low standards. Why murder one of us if you can manage the entire room of us?" Kanae throws a pinch of something into the basin of water. "Not that you can kill the entire room of us. You haven't the skill." It hisses and steams. She uses a her hands to bring some of it to Hashirama's lips. "It won't solve everything. I'll have to do this more thoroughly later, but you won't be dead at the end of the night, yes?"

Hashirama nods weakly, and says nothing.

"Mito-neesan." Tobirama says, quite suddenly, as if he's suddenly regained his bearings, looking between the two Uzu women in shock. "Who are you?"

"Uzumaki Mito." Mito seems slightly annoyed. "And if you would Otouto, please find something to tie our prisoners with. I have no desire to hold them forever."

Only then does Madara note that she does not look like she can, in fact, hold them forever.

"Madara-sama?" Kanae has summoned him. He goes. "Hold Hashirama-nii's shoulders?" Mechanically, he does as he is told.

Tobirama disappears, and reappears with several other Senju who are shaken enough not to question how their clan head's pretty wife has turned into a demoness. The three perpetrators are bundled off to somewhere within the compound. Madara does not care particularly where they are going.

Beneath his hands, Hashirama's chakra pulses weakly against something dark and sinister.

His knees feel weak, but he cannot fall.

Only when the captives are carted off does Mito turn frantically to her husband. "Kanae, what's his situation?"

"Fine, Neesan." She pulls out a hairpin, and considers the point. Something about it must have displeased her, because she frowns, but says nothing more. She runs it through the water, and then through a point on Hashirama's chest. He cries out, and Madara has to hold him down, or he'd fall out of the chair. His eyes are blank, unseeing, lost. "He'll live." The phrase repeats itself in Madara's mind, like an echo. _He'll live._

 _He'll live. He'll live. He'll...live._ Most men did not live after being poisoned.

"What are you doing to my brother?" Tobirama is back, back in time to hear Hashirama's devolvement into this wreck that bore no resemblance to the man.

"Saving him." Kanae snaps back. "Don't touch anything unless you want him to die." She's drawing a bloody seal on Hashirama's chest, working quickly, efficiently, no movement wasted.

"Trust my sister, Otouto." Mito comes to stand beside her sister, finishing the seal.

"Don't overexert, Neesan." Kanae tells her, and closes her eyes. She takes a breath.

The two sisters join hands, and the sudden chakra spike in the room is enormous.

The poison is pulled, drop by drop from the small wound on Hashirama's chest.

His eyes fall closed, and his breathing evens.

As soon as it is done, Mito sags against the table, breathing hard. "Mito-neesan?" Tobirama is by her side in an instant, looking between his brother and his sister-in-law.

"Madara-sama?" Kanae asks, and through her paint, he knows that her face is paler than it ought to be. "Help me move Hashirama-nii to his bed?"

Wordlessly, he does.

* * *

"When is he waking up?" Tobirama asks, even as he helps Mito to a seat. His eyes are fixed on Hashirama's face. "Why is he asleep? What did you do? How did you know what to do? What is that box? Who are you?"

"One question at a time." Kanae sounds tired, drained, and when she sets her hands in her lap, they tremble.

Madara is certain that only he sees this, because he is standing directly behind her.

"He will wake up sometime rather shortly. I am uncertain exactly. He is asleep because the poison is corrosive to chakra, and it's consumed a good deal of his energy. Did I miss anything?"

"Who _are you._ " Tobirama says once again, and it is not a question.

"Tobirama." Uzumaki Mito seems to have dropped all semblance of being a lady, because her voice is sharp and cutting. "We are the daughters of Uzumaki Ashina."

For the first time, Madara considers that Uzumaki Mito might be able to hold her own ground on a battlefield. It is disturbing to note, when most days all she seemed to do is make googly eyes at Hashirama.

"Formerly the Red Viper." Kanae looks Tobirama in the eye. "And in Uzu, I strongly considered removing you from my sister's life permanently."

Tobirama is rather pale at this point. "What."

"Consider it Neesan's mercy to have drawn the gravity seal on your chest." Kanae looks away. "I might have passed you a drink otherwise, and knowing you, you would have taken it without a second thought."

Tobirama falls into a distinctly stunned silence.

She reaches up for him. "Madara-sama, would you like to stay?" Hashirama still has not woken. If he wakes, he is fine. Hashirama has not woken and that weighs on his heart like a shackle. It is not clear that he ever will, and the thought makes Madara as good as mute.

There are four people in the room waiting for him to wake. There are four people.

And only then does he remember that- "Where's Izuna?" He'd lost his brother in the confusion. He'd _lost Izuna. Lost-_

He doesn't deserve, doesn't- _Kami. Izuna, Izuna, Izu-_

"Madara-sama." His head is on her shoulder. Her hands are in his hair. "Izuna-kun is sitting outside on the porch, highly concerned about everything, but attempting to stay out of the way so we don't accidentally trample him."

And the tension bleeds away, just a little. "I thought-"

Her fingers against his lips. "I know what you thought." She's speaking softly, although he's sure the others in the room can hear. He is past caring. "But Izuna-kun is fine, and you didn't lose him."

She always knows. Always knows what he needs to hear. _My hope._

He is so relieved he could sob, but he won't because it's enough face lost for this night. For all six of them, new to the ways of running a city, of being leaders and rulers, and he is so tired.

He is only twenty-four, but he is tired. He straightens, because it does not matter if he is tired, there is still a friend he has to wait for. "A-"

A while longer, he was going to ask it, but Hashirama takes this moment to wake up. "Mito? Tobi?" Somewhere in his mind, there is a bell tolling out the time. A death knell cry somewhere.

There are a thousand choice words that Madara would like to have for his particular brand of stupid idiot tonight, but it's clear that Hashirama has no desire to talk to either Kanae or himself.

The first word out of Hashirama's mouth after nearly dying is Mito. The next, Tobi. He figures no place in Hashirama's heart. It is perfectly clear. His heart is a traitorous beast.

It does not listen to his demand to stop loving the one that does not love him. He cannot fight it, not tonight.

He pulls Kanae to her feet. "There is no need to stay."

He assumes the prisoners are dealt with, perhaps. He doesn't much care.

He wants to see Izuna. He wants to go home.

And perhaps, he wants to shatter in front of the one person he trusts to stitch his pieces back together.

 _End._ He orders his heart. _End and begin again._

 _No._ Not even his heart will listen. _Persist._

 _Persist. In the face of all obstacles-_

 _Persist._

* * *

 **A.N.** There is such a thing as giving up, that Madara's heart does not understand. There are a few moments of Kanae and Madara interactions in this chapter, though none so large as in chapters past, which means we're due for a lot of interaction next chapter.

Honestly, even though Kanae is the one that's nicknamed 'little storm' it feels more like Madara's mind is the stormy one.

Thank you so much to Lixx22 (I'm not sure this was entirely chaos, or particularly fun, but I tried?), morpheusandmuse (I'm glad, the slow pick up is largely because Madara and Romance is basically difficult to move in the same direction. It's like he actively fights being happy...), bunnyguest (No, he really doesn't. It's going to take him a bit.), angelacorus (I don't speak a word of Spanish, so I had to run your comment through Google Translate, and I don't know if it got everything right, but I do feel like Madara needs more love. Even if he doesn't know what to do with it, sigh. ._.), and MarchionessBlueViolet (Yeah, this fic alternates between sweet, unfortunate, and blockhead!Madara. It's really quite interesting.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	10. Early Gift

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart;

Of its constant hunger for whatever it is

It wants. The way it stops and starts."

-Poe, _Terrified Hearts_

* * *

Izuna lets them be, when they get back. Perhaps he can feel the tension in the air. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps-Madara doesn't really know, and the world is painted gray enough that he has no desire to find out. Kanae steps out into the hall with him for a brief moment, and then returns.

The weight on his shoulders is crushing all the same. "You got rid of all the sake in the house, didn't you?" It's not really that he wants to drink. It's more that he wants to forget all these echoes, these bells, these dreams.

He doesn't want to know, can't even imagine.

And whatever else poisonous sake is, it is good for forgetting, good for blinding, numbing, drowning. His sorrows need drowning.

She comes to sit beside him, head on his shoulder, and he feels her hands tremble when she raises them to cup his face. "Come to bed, Madara-sama."

She'd done too much for Hashirama then. Done too much, and now exhaustion creeps about the edges of her words. She has little left for him tonight. Madara knows.

The words are a rising floodtide. He cannot stop them, even if he has the energy to try, and he does not.

"If I could stop, I would." He stares down at the hands in his lap, and his heart stutters on. "I don't want-" _Hashirama._ He thinks. _I could love you, if I didn't love him._

"You do, still." She whispers, and her hand slides down, fingers trailing over his chest, down to trace the scar over his abdomen through his finely embroidered clothes. "He is a ghost in this room tonight."

Most nights it isn't so. Most nights he takes down her hair, and runs the bone comb through its length before the vanity, a thousand strokes to precision. Most nights she unlaces his armor, and returns it to the rack where it belongs, humming absently under her breath. Most nights he falls into slumber, and she is beside him, no space between them.

Most nights Hashirama makes no intrusions unless he is spoken of.

And Madara is tired of the spectre, but he has always been bad at banishing the past. "How long will you wait for me?" _How long before you tire of this man who sits beside you?_

She is young and pretty, and on the nights she hasn't burned herself away, she is bright and vibrant, laughing, kind. His clansmen speak of her often. The clan's children are fascinated by her.

He feels the seven years between them weigh like decades. He is no popular man in the village. He has no honor to his name, blood on his hands, and a weight on his heart that he cannot take off. She is here by his side by choice.

He does not know how much longer she is willing to choose-

"Madara-sama." She huffs against his shoulder, voice hoarse. "Shut up, and go to sleep." She pulls him back down on the futon, still fully clothed, and throws an arm and a leg over him possessively. Normally, it is he who ends up holding, clinging, but not tonight.

She's using his chest as a pillow, and in the faint glow of the moonlight, her hair darkens to bloody streaks. "I know you don't believe in much anymore, but accept that the gods have given you a miracle and don't question it." She sighs contently as she shifts. Before she sinks into sleep, she mumbles something under her breath. "Dramatic man...forgive yourself."

He's left awake, as his thoughts chase their way in circles around his head. She tells him that he shouldn't question it, had compared herself to a miracle of the gods, and then promptly fallen asleep on him as if he is her favorite pillow, and he can't help it.

He laughs, quietly, because moving too much might wake her. She needs her rest tonight.

 _A small woman with red hair and too stubborn a mind, a miracle of the gods for my existence._

A balm for the soul. A seamstress for his heart.

He considers his thoughts once more, and decide that only the last two considerations matter. She is here by choice. He has a weight on his heart.

And why would he care so much whether or not she wants to go away in the future, whether or not she'd grow cold and unforgiving, whether or not she cares too much for him, if in no way did he care for her? Why had he danced these months, begging her to ask him for his heart? Why did he allow her her teasing, and never find another room for her? Why did he allow her space in his life, the vanity on the wall, her clothing in his closet, her sewing table, a second chair, her presence by his side, if he did not feel that in some way she is supposed to be here?

Why does he let her dictate and influence his actions?

There is no sake in the house, because she has banned it, but it would be easy for him to continue drinking. He does not.

They never speak of the rice shipments the clan sends to Uzu. He sends them anyway.

She washes his hair, and sings him songs, and night after night, he'd watched her dance with her bare feet over his floorboards as if pulled by an unseen string from her table to his to center of the floor, back to him and then back to her table.

He examines his heart again, and finds that Hashirama still holds the lion's share, painfully leaving fingerprints over the creases and the edges, that he can't erase his oldest friend, finds that Izuna still holds the remainder and certainly, he has no desire to remove his little brother, that the dead's claim has not been touched, the graves in his mind's eye are many and numerous, but somehow she is there nonetheless.

She has staked no claim.

But the parts too painful to touch are receding.

She has staked no claim.

But thinking about the past is no longer a kunai twisting deeper.

Thinking of Izuna does not wound him with thoughts of eyes.

The clan's children speak to him now.

The clan smiles at him now.

He doesn't know how long he spends that night, staring up at his wooden ceiling, weightless and flying. Why did he ever think that love was to be parceled out in small doses, that it was finite and its quantity unaltered when hearts are meant to grow and change?

He runs a hand through her hair, and feels the silk of it over the calluses on his hands. "Kanae." He tells her. "Wait for me."

* * *

He is still half awake, when she stirs at sunrise. "It is too early." He whispers, and his grip tightens over her. "Stay." But his delight is still too much to bear, and he rises to wakefulness even without her prompting.

It does not mean that he opens his eyes though. He pretends to be asleep.

"Madara-sama?" She brushes the hair from his face. He opens one eye, and it's still a lazy morning, still too early. The sun hits her hair, and sets it on fire. It's tangled in the back, so much so that it really looks like tongues of flame. "Are you alright?" Her hand pauses over his forehead, and she blinks at him, green eyes paler than new leaves in the springtime in the rising light.

 _Am I alright?_ The laughter that hits him, he's been holding back all night. _Am I alright?_ He pulls her hand down, and kisses her fingertips through his laughter. "More than alright." He tells her. "I have not been so alright in a long time."

She pulls her hand away, suddenly, turning away. "Madara-sama!" But her face is as red as her hair. It is a very pretty red. Something in the vicinity of his chest purrs.

 _Oh?_ He sits up, and leans over her shoulder, arms around her waist to keep her from continuing to run away. "I embarrassed you?" He kisses her shoulder, and tries to keep himself from laughing. He fails. "I am sorry-Izuna has told me that there is nothing that can embarrass you?"

"When I fell asleep yesterday," She sighs, and leans into his hold, no longer embarrassed, but perfectly content. "You were not this happy." It is an understatement. When she fell asleep yesterday, he was ready to sink again, but she had left him with enough to come to his own realisations. "Did good news reach you during the night?" _In a manner of things._

How had he ever thought he was content before? It is nothing compared to this. "You told me you were a gift from the gods."

"I did?" She blinks. "That was not intentional."

"Mmmm..." He shifts, and sighs. Normally their positions are reversed. Normally, her head is on his shoulder, but still. "You did."

"I am sorry." She reaches for him, but that would involve him moving from his position right now. He likes where he is. "Arrogance was certainly not my intention."

He huffs, and watches a few strands of her hair move. _It is still too early for this._ "But you are a gift." He pulls her back down, and finds the spot between her shoulder blades, eyes sliding closed. "My gift. My hope. My wife. Mine."

She giggles. "As you say."

He frowns and prods her stomach. "You do not believe me." And this is really rather unfair. She's the one who said that she was a gift, and that he ought to just accept it. "You are my gift."

"For what occasion, Madara-sama?" There's a smile in her voice though he can't see her face. At least she's stopped arguing about whether or not she is in fact a gift.

"My birthday." It is the first thing that he can think of, though this is a patently ridiculous statement. He was born in winter.

It is currently August.

"Izuna said that your birthday is the 24th of December?" She turns, and he does have to give up the spot between her shoulder blades. She pokes his cheek, and doesn't move her finger away. "Aren't I a little early then?" Her eyes are laughing at him.

"I don't care." Technically she is late, four months late, but he really doesn't care about that.

She taps the end of his nose, the touch feather light, and her laugh fans out over his neck. "Little boy."

"I am not a little boy." This is a serious matter. "I am _not_."

"Of course, you aren't, Madara-sama." Her response is a little too fast. Just a little too fast, just a little too smooth, just a little too amused.

"You did not find me particularly... _little._ " Again, this is quite the serious matter. A man is not to be perceived as a boy by his wife, that is not how this works.

She laughs breathlessly at him, and sits up. "I won't say it again, Madara-sama." But still she laughs. "You are a dark and fearsome-oh this is ridiculous." She buries her face in her hands, but it doesn't stop her giggles, doesn't stop her shaking frame. "You are a dark and fearsome w-warrior of great renown."

 _You rob me of every scrap of pride._ "Much better." He turns over. "I like that much better."

She leans over, and kisses his temple. "We have to deal with the hostages, Madara-sama."

And his satisfaction is a little tinged by reality once more. _Of course. Those damned-_ "Five more minutes." He pulls the pillow over his head. "Armor me up then."

"What do you take me for, Madara-sama?" She rises now, and he hears her feet patter out over the floorboards, away, though her voice floats back. "Breakfast does take a little longer than five minutes, you know."

But this is all relative, all rather absent.

He drifts.

* * *

They walk to the Senju Compound after breakfast, her hand on his arm. She'd despaired over the wrinkled condition of their nice clothing, but it really doesn't matter much. He has plenty of money in this peace time to commision more clothing.

And since this is no longer a diplomatic dinner, he brings his gunbai and the attached kama slung over his back.

"Madara-sama?" She asks, as they pass the teahouse he'd used to frequent with Hashirama. "Please let me ask the prisoners a question before they are executed?"

"It is unclear that they will be executed." He is not entirely sure what Hashirama will do.

Isn't sure what would win, the combined might of himself and Tobirama, or Hashirama's bull-headed goodwill.

It is unclear, and he dislikes that more than he could possibly imagine.

"They attempted murder last night, and would have succeeded, had Neesan and I not acted quickly enough." Kanae twists a strand of her hair around her finger, and frowns at the dusty road ahead of them. "Who would prevent their deaths?"

She is back to wearing the clothing she'd wear in Uzu, a half length kimono, shorts, and in her bare feet once more. And only now does he remember that the spiraling red lines over every kimono that she owns, is a subtle declaration of her clan pride.

 _But for formality, she put that pride aside, and called herself Uchiha Kanae._

"I am aware." He sighs, because yes, he is really aware of far more than her. "However, Hashirama is an idiot." This is the first time he tells her this out loud. That Hashirama is an idiot. That he knows Hashirama is an idiot.

"I was aware." She tells him, with mock seriousness, a teasing glint in her eye. "From before the moment he stepped foot into my father's halls in Uzu." She turns away. "I was not aware that he was at this level of idiocy though."

He has to smile at this. "And why did you dislike him so much before he even stepped foot on your shores?" _What made Senju Hashirama so unpalatable to you even then?_

He'd thought it was because of something Hashirama had done. It seems not.

"He was going to take Neesan away." She shrugs. "What am I to do, if not to dislike the man that takes my only sister away from the world that loves her? He is only a man like any other man in this world, and compared to Neesan's other suitors, he had only a matchstick city to his name."

"Konoha is a matchstick city?" This darkens his mood still further. Not only will he have to argue with a Hashirama who will not have fully recovered, he has to consider that Konoha is no prize.

If she had not considered it a prize for her sister, she can hardly say that it is a prize for herself. And he can admit that Konoha means more to him than a place to live, and a collection of matchstick houses that he is fond of.

"No." She looks at him, and her green eyes seem to read every thought in his head with such perfect ease. "It means more to that to those who live here." They step past the gates of the Senju Compound. "My insults toward your city have more to do with how Senju Hashirama wrote my sister bad poetry before making himself more important to her than me."

"You are jealous of your sister's husband." So that is what it is. It is not Konoha, and that eases the knot in his chest. It is not _him._ That difference is subtle but distinct. Her opinion of Konoha is a reflection of her opinion of him.

"It was hardly your fault." She tosses her hair over her shoulder, and the pearls on her hairpins flash in the morning light. Today, they are cream. She does not answer his statement with affirmation or denial. It is affirmation then. "You are important to me."

And the knot eases just a little bit more. "You don't have to tell me so." She never does have to tell him so. It speaks in all the things she does for him.

He'll learn not to question it. "I will provide the distraction." He says as he steps forward to knock on the door. "Ask your questions."

"Thank you, Madara-sama."

It's Tobirama who opens the door.

A pale and shaken Tobirama who looks like he fell asleep in a chair and hasn't done much else since except run his hands through his hair until it sticks up in spikes.

"How is Neesan?" Kanae steps forward and catches him when he stumbles.

"She's asleep still." Strangely enough, there is no sneer in Tobirama's tone, no dismissal in the other man's eyes, no antagonism. "Hello, Uchiha." There is only fatigue.

Only something like misery. Guilt.

Madara knows those feelings well. They are his constant companions, and had been so for years.

"Senju." Madara crosses his arms over his chest, and waits for the insults, the sidelong looks, the twisted lips. It doesn't come.

Tobirama stumbles down the hall, Kanae's hand on his arm so that he doesn't pitch forward.

Something deep inside Madara's chest growls. In another life, she'd be taking care of Tobirama. In another life, it would be Tobirama listening to her humming, her absent singing, eating her cooking, telling her about his frustrations, and ki-In another life, very similar to this one, Madara would be the one cold.

He reminds himself that he can act just a little bigger than this. That he can watch the scene in front of him, and let. it. go.

It is just a grating reminder, that is all, that she was not supposed to be his.

"And what about Hashirama-nii?" Kanae seems to know the way around, or perhaps she is just following where Tobirama is going.

Madara knows it is Hashirama's room.

"Unwell." Tobirama slides the door open with shaking hands. "But he is, as you said, not dead."

The word unwell shakes Madara once more. _What sort of-_

"Mada?" Hashirama's propped up on pillows, Mito's long hair fanned out over his lap. She's sitting on the chair by his bedside, and even asleep, her worry carves lines in her face.

The other chair by the bedside is empty.

Madara assumes that this is where Tobirama spent the night. It is unimportant though, in the grand scheme of things.

"Idiot." Seeing Hashirama- _His face is too pale. Has he lost weight? Why is he like this?_ \- "I told you, _told you_ that this would happen, but did you listen? Do you ever listen to me? Do you ever listen to anyone?" He doesn't realise that he's stalked forward, until he's standing an inch from Hashirama's face. "Do you not understand that you are the _last friend I have in this world?_ Do you not see the depths of your own stupidity?"

"Mada..." Hashirama protests weakly.

"Stop talking so loud." Mito's dark eyes are staring at him, and they look like two bottomless pits. "I did not fall asleep here..." She glances around the room blearily. "To be woken by your undignified screeching not two hours later."

"Neesan." Kanae has not left then. Kanae has not left to ask whatever questions she is supposed to be asking the prisoners. Instead she has come to stand beside him. "Forgive him. Hashirama-nii gave us quite the scare yesterday."

"Hashirama-nii?" Hashirama blinks, and a beaming smile crosses his face. "You want to call me Hashirama-nii? You consented?" It looks like he is about to leap out of bed and spin Kanae around the room, but Madara's glare makes him reconsider. "Kanae-chan! I heard from Tobi that you were the one to make sure I didn't end up dead! I have to thank you." And normally, Hashirama thanking people would end with him bowing far too low, or slamming his forehead into the floor, but Mito prevents this.

"Hashi-baka." She shifts her position in Hashirama's lap, and raps his forehead with her knuckles. "Do not make us have to save you again." And then Mito promptly falls back to sleep.

Kanae herself exhales, and he feels her frustration with her sister. Mito had woken, reprimanded two men, and said nothing to her sister before slipping back into sleep.

"I'm sorry I made you worry Mada, but it really wasn't that dangerous!" Hashirama seems to have found his tongue, then.

Madara's left eyebrow twitches. He feels the pulse in his temple increase.

Distantly he considers that friendship with Senju Hashirama is bad for his health, as well as bad for his mood, and bad for his heart.

"Wasn't that dangerous? Wasn't that dangerous?" Tobirama whisper screams at his brother. "Niisan do you want me to kill you myself?" His face falls into his hands. "For once I agree with the Uchiha. You are an idiot. And you never seem to listen to anyone."

Kanae pats him on the shoulder. "It seems to be a trend for elder siblings, Tobi- _nii._ "

Tobirama looks up at her, murder in his eyes. "I am not your _Tobi-nii._ "

But she's already moving on, checking Hashirama's forehead with the back of her hand, taking his pulse, fingers on his wrist. "You need bed rest." She pronounces this without a single moment of hesitation, and then turns to the rest of the room. "This means that everyone else is clearing out, and Hashirama-nii is going to _go to sleep._ "

Hashirama, Madara, and Tobirama open their mouths to protest at the same time. She ups the wattage of her smile. There is subtle murder in her eyes.

Three sets of jaws click shut.

Tobirama and Madara troop out into the hallway, and stand about, glaring at each other.

"Well?" Kanae asks as she follows them out. "Shouldn't we discuss what to do with the prisoners without Hashirama-nii's bleeding heart?"

There's a grim look on Tobirama's face when he nods in response. "That is an excellent idea."

Madara reminds himself that Hashirama is not yet Hokage, and he has been proven to be bad at decision making. It's really for the best that they make the decision to execute or make an example of the prisoners right now, before Hashirama's bull-headed self stopped them and advocated for mercy.

There is really no need to feel guilty about going behind Hashirama's back. It's for his own good that they will be tortured, executed, and strung up on the city walls before he recovers.

* * *

Half an hour later finds them in the cells in the Senju Compound, conspicuously empty except for the three who'd tried to kill the clan head the night before.

"Mito-neesan had to come in and restrain them again when they tried to escape." Tobirama says by way of explanation, as he waves a hand at the seals painted on each of the prisoners.

Without warning, Kanae takes a step forward, and slaps him across the cheek. "How could you make her do this?"

Tobirama blinks, and touches the flaming red handprint on his cheek, as if he couldn't believe that the woman before him had just slapped him. "What?"

"You couldn't even restrain them properly?" Kanae asks, tension in every line of her frame, anger rolling off of her in waves. "You made Neesan come down here and deal with it when she was already exhausted?" This close, she doesn't look quite human, not entirely. It's something in her eyes, something in the sharp whiteness of her teeth. That she is just...not.

Madara has to remember that it is not only her brother that is not entirely human, not entirely this world.

He takes a step toward her. _This anger is not sustainable, and she has sacrificed too much last night as well. It was not only Uzumaki Mito who suffered._

He'd not forgotten the chakra spike, how the Uzumaki sisters had stood together, how they'd matched. He'd not forgotten that she'd fallen asleep with nothing of her normal ability to understand him.

Something had been exchanged last night.

He isn't sure that he wants to know exactly what it was.

"Are you or are you not _incompetent, Senju?_ " She roars, and the sound echoes on the walls.

Madara sets his chin on the top of her head and pulls her in. "It does no good now." His hand finds hers with no conscious thought of his own, and squeezes gently. _It does no good for you to ruin yourself over him._

"You aren't really the person to tell me this, Madara-sama." _No. I am hypocritical, am I not?_ Her words are bitter, sarcastic, miserable, but the anger's bled out of her now. She is no longer screaming. She's just tired. "But yes, it is over."

Tobirama is staring at the two of them, as if he's seen something that he cannot understand, but he shakes himself out of it. "What are we going to do with the prisoners?"

"I need to ask them a question first." And there it is again, her insistence on asking. What question it is, he does not know.

"Fine. Ask your questions." Tobirama leans against the opposite wall. "The room's not soundproof though."

Kanae raises an eyebrow at him. "It is not as if I am going in to ask if Yotsuki-san is _satisfied._ " It's the way she says that word, the way that the word slides around in the air like some sort of dare. Madara doesn't like it.

She steps up to the cell door, with the dead calm of the eye of a storm. The door swings shut behind her.

"You're different." This statement from the Senju he does not dignify with a response. "Why?"

Madara really isn't interested with Senju Tobirama and his asinine questions. "Hn." Instead, he watches as Kanae through the cell door, and thinks about how to arrange the bodies once they are strung up.

Examples must be made. They have to be made, else the rest of the world think Konoha weak.

But something in his heart twinges anyway, because that isn't really why he bays for blood. _It's still because of Hashirama._ He'd decided the night before that love is not a finite substance to be given to only one person, but it isn't there yet.

His heart is still a traitor. It still cries out for a man who sees him as no more than a friend. And he could hate himself for that.

He shifts uneasily on his feet, and decides that it would be simpler to read Kanae's lips than to continue considering the topic.

"So, you are the disciple of Kawasaki-san." She's standing in front of the Yotsuki woman, the one who shares the kanji for crow in both of their names. "His standards have dropped." The Yotsuki woman's lips draw back in a furious snarl. Kanae doesn't even so much as blink.

She isn't speaking loudly. His ears have to strain to catch even the slightest shred of her words, but the sharingan knows all too well how to read lips.

"Are you even listening to me?" Oh. It's Tobirama once more.

"I wasn't aware that you were worth listening too." The interruption is making Madara lose track of what Kanae is saying. _Tobirama_ is making Madara lose track of what is going on inside that cell.

She's leaned forward now, a merciless light in her eyes, but he can no longer see her lips, and her words are just snatches. "Guest right...you know...violate..."

"Since when did you counsel other people on giving up their anger over someone that you hate?" _Will he just shut the hell up?_

"Since I realised that I was old." And there, again, his anger. His big fat mouth. Yes, he'd thought it. Thought it last night, felt the years weigh like decades, felt every scar and every wound.

It seems as though life conspires against giving him gifts. _Why give me gifts when I am too jaded to love them anymore?_

A year. Two. Had he been seventeen when Uzumaki Ashina wrote to offer him Kanae, perhaps he wouldn't be as he is now. But that is a stupid thought. _She was ten years old._

 _What good would that have done? She would hardly have been of help then._

"You're twenty four." Tobirama's voice cuts through his thoughts like a well placed tanto strike. "You're hardly about to get arthritis and weak knees." And the man's sneer is back. It's almost a relief. "What, does she not find satisfaction in you? Is that what you mean by old?"

The double entendre grates at his pride.

"Because she loves you so dearly." Madara mutters as he stares at Kanae's back. "She's practically dying to call you Tobi-nii." This is not the smartest of comebacks.

But then, he really doubts that Kanae's life is particularly satisfying no matter what she tells him.

* * *

 **A.N.** Never a break. Madara really does have many issues that are not to be resolved by wild realizations on the nature of love and relationships in the middle of the night. But we do see the sun come out from behind the clouds for a brief moment.

As always, thank you to LittleMissSugarLess, stubs1101 (Not entirely sure which man you mean. The whole lot of them shouldn't still be alive at this point given the statistical side of this. And well...Madara's kinda scary if you're a normal person. Kanae just has a very low bar for 'Not Scary'), bunnyguest (Yeah, Tobirama needs to remember that Kunoichi are a thing, and fighting wars isn't the only way to kill people.), MidnaMoo, Lixx22 (I'm sure it's okay. I do the same thing in public all the time.), and Scarease (Thank you so much for the offer! If my inspiration ever runs away, I will be glad to take you up on that offer.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	11. Out of Ash

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Some days, I am Van Gogh's Starry Night,

Other days, I'm his suicide letter.

But every day I am his eyes,

Seeing everything painfully beautiful."

-Unknown

* * *

She steps out of the cell, and dusts off her hands. "So, how are we killing them?" There's a no uncertainty, just a terrible sort of finality. She's gotten what she came for then.

"What was your question?" Tobirama doesn't bother answering her question. "And why did you need to ask them anything before we kill them? We know that they're guilty already."

And Kanae smiles, an unholy smile with far too many teeth. "I wanted to know _why._ " She absently plays with a loose strand of hair that has escaped from her bun. "And now I know why."

"Why what?" Tobirama runs a hand through his hair and advances towards Kanae. "We already know why they want to kill Hashirama-nii!" Madara steps between them. _My wife is mine. Not yours. Never yours._ "They want to end Konoha!"

The thought that Konoha could end with or without Hashirama's death had never occured to Madara before. He is not sure he likes the thought. _If Hashirama were to die and Tobirama and I would have to-_

He erases that thought before it finishes. _We would burn the city down in two minutes._

"Madara-sama." Kanae's hand is on his elbow, and she's still smiling, but it's smaller, softer. He likes this smile. "I'll answer Tobi-nii's question." And she looks so _amused._ "It is after all, a valid question."

"I am not your Tobi-nii!" Tobirama looks...of all things, frustrated and resigned. And it seems that even if Madara cannot get under his skin, Kanae does it effortlessly.

"Of course you aren't, Tobi-nii." She waves away his concerns, and Madara almost smiles.

It is almost enough for him to recover from the thought of- _No. There is no need to think of that. Hashirama will not die. Kanae has said that he will not die._ "At any rate, I didn't want to know about the destruction of Konoha. I wanted to know why Kawasaki Saemon decided to show his hand when he knew that I would be at the dinner table, and what prompted him to break guest right."

There's a humming in his blood. Her words remind him of everything that happened the night before, the idea that Hashirama could have- _been gone. Gone forever._ He wants to see blood, and he knows that the order of bed rest cannot possibly detain Hashirama for very long.

They have to finish this before Hashirama has the ability to get out of bed without waking Mito.

Tobirama blinks. "You know the person behind this?"

"I do know the prominent teachers of my trade." She glances back at the people in the cell, and shrugs dismissively. "I have to admit that I didn't expect this level of proficiency from his youngest disciple." But the line of her shoulders is tense, and Madara can't quite help but remember, that Hashirama had been poisoned under Kanae's nose, that she had noticed only moments before he drank the wine. _Why didn't she notice?_

It's not her job to notice such things. She'd not been prepared. Hashirama was the idiot one. It wasn't her job to prevent his death when she doesn't even like him particularly much.

"The Yotsuki woman is his youngest disciple?" It had been Yotsuki Kikyo who'd been the one who had the conversation about poison with Kanae last night. The man had been defiant, but he is slumped now. Yet, she'd focused on the only woman in the cell. She'd insulted the woman, and ignored the men.

She surveys the three prisoners in the cell with a raised eyebrow. "Kawasaki Saemon's standards have dropped. He's sold his honor for money. That's all I can say."

Madara has a sudden desire to pull her closer. She seems so far away, but he remembers that he is still in public, that Tobirama- _damn him-_ is still here. His hand twitches, and falls back to his side.

He doesn't touch her.

"So that's all you wanted to know?" Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. "Kami save us all from the curiosity of women."

"May I remind you," Kanae's smile is still edged with an inhumane quality. "That it was this woman and her sister who saved your brother from certain death last night?"

Tobirama falls into an uneasy silence. And then, he shifts. "How are we killing them? We have to do this quickly."

Kanae opens her mouth to respond, but then her gaze is caught by something else. "Hashirama-nii, why are you out of bed?" Her smile is sweet, calm, but her eyes promise him pain.

Madara turns. There Hashirama is in the doorway, holding onto the door frame, breathing hard. "You will do no such thing. Let them go." And for once, Hashirama is deadly serious. There is no comedy or depression to him now.

"You can't possibly mean that Niisan!" Tobirama throws up his hands. "You've gone mad."

 _No madder than Hashirama is usually._

"I am not mad. I'm telling you that I am letting them go." Hashirama gasps, still weak, his face ashen. Madara's heart shudders.

"No one is going to listen to you." Madara crosses his arms over his chest and steps forward.

There's a voice in his head that screams for vengeance. For blood and pain and he wants it. Wants to rip the door off of the cell, and mold a katon jutsu. He wants to burn everything. Wants to see the skin and flesh peel away from the bone. Wants to build a fire so fierce that it melts the bars of the cell to pools of metal.

 _You hurt him. You hurt him._ And his mind howls. He wants, wants, but-

He is a man, not a beast.

And he cannot give in to the rage.

Kanae's hand is on his arm. She does not need to see that rage, the cruelty that he's capable of. He does not want her to see, to know, to think that, that he is nothing more than a dog of war. The screaming pounds in his head anyway. _Kill them. Kill them. Kill them now. Kill them._

"You have to listen to me." Hashirama uses the door frame to pull himself up. "We cannot have war. If we kill the ambassadors for any reason, there will be war."

War.

How he hates that word.

 _Didn't the war end when Konoha began? Haven't I given up enough to prevent war and suffering?_

"They ought to be begging us not to kill them." Kanae says, and her eyes are displeased, such a flat green. "They were the ones to broke the peace."

"That doesn't matter." Hashirama moves over so that he leans very obviously on Tobirama's shoulder. "If we kill them and string them up on the walls like I know Madara wants to, then they'll march on us."

Hashirama does not mean to wound with this statement. He knows this, knows this but still. It hurts. It hurts all the same because it is the truth, and he knows it. _Not built for peace._

 _I am nothing more than a mad dog._

 _War is all I know._

And the howling in his mind is still, ever constant. His temples throb. His heart is drunk, drunk on fury, drunk on pain, drunk on a hundred thousand things. None of them are healthy.

 _What did I agree to when I agreed to peace? What were their sacrifices for if I cannot kill those that would harm what I love? What does it mean? Why?_

Kanae steps forward, and places herself between himself and Hashirama. "Then let them come." She raises her chin with a frown. "Do you think I'm afraid of them? _Let them come._ "

"It would be more than just your death if we went to war again." Tobirama sighs. "Niisan's looking at the bigger picture." Tobirama turns away. "I just hate backing down, but we're not ready for something like this."

His mind has jumped to-hasn't he always thought that her hair looked like blood? Is it so hard to see-see her broken. She says that she is fearless, but, but-

Face down, a growing stain around her, a broken body crumpled the way no flesh should crumple, a deathly pallor. Soulless. Empty.

 _A life without hope._

He drowns. But she steps closer, head against his arm, hair spilling over his shoulder.

And he cannot drown, cannot, because this is, she is not dead. _Don't make up stories._

 _Don't imagine anything._

 _It isn't real. Kanae is not dead._

"Have it your way then." She shrugs. "Let them go if you want." It isn't like her to capitulate so easily, but he cannot think of it at the moment.

He cannot think of anything. The howling is climbing in pitch, frenzied baying.

He can only be satisfied with blood.

But he will have to be content without it. He cannot be content without it.

"What about you, Mada?" Hashirama's back to calling him Mada then.

He can't bring himself to care. "Do what you want." He pushes past Hashirama. "You never listen to what I want anyway." The way is clear, to return home, to his brother, to what remains of his family.

Kanae trails after him, a polite smile on her lips. She might have said something to Hashirama and Tobirama as she passes, but he is too far gone to care.

What does it matter? His opinions don't matter anyway.

He does not love war, but it is all he knows.

All he knows is killing.

* * *

All of his grief turns to anger and frustration by the time they arrive home. Kanae sits down, calmly, on the chair by her table and picks up her sewing.

She's been working on his shirts. He doesn't know what for, but he doesn't question it. He doesn't need to. She knows what she's doing.

She sits now, but he cannot sit, cannot be still.

He paces in tight circles, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, his rough wooden walls are not enough to contain him, creation is not enough to contain him, he needs to burn something. Something needs to be destroyed to appease him.

He cannot destroy his house. He cannot. He cannot.

He wants to hurt something.

He will not hurt her.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He cannot stop. He cannot stop and it is killing something, even if it might not be him.

"Kawasaki Saemon has always been a respected member of the poisoners guild." Kanae says, very calmly as he paces back and forth. She is the still in the storm of his frenzied action, his inability to sit down or else explode. _Kami damn Hashirama to hell._

 _Will that blasted man's heart ever stop bleeding?_

"But I really doubt," Kanae continues blithely, as if ignoring him. He knows, deeply, somewhere, that she is not ignoring him, that she knows every thought running through his head, and that this conversation is supposed to comfort him somehow. There is just...

 _I need to go back. I need to go back and kill them right now. It doesn't matter if there is a war afterwards._

He is a liar. A liar even to himself. He does not want war. He is tired.

"That he can cure chakra poisoning."

"What?" He blinks, and stops pacing. She's still sitting there, her sewing on her lap, needle flashing. She doesn't look up, and he doesn't remember what she's said. He's only half heard, and it does not connect. "What did you just say?"

"Well," and here she sets the sewing aside and looks at him with a level of contemplation. There's a frown on her features, a furrow on her brow that he wants so badly to erase. He can't touch her lest she crumple beneath his fingertips. "You wanted them dead, didn't you, Madara-sama?" She rises and takes his hand. "Believe me, chakra poisoning is a very painful way to die."

She had mentioned something about chakra poisoning. Mentioned something about someone. He isn't sure.

He sees again, in his mind's eye, Kanae standing before the prisoners in the cell. _If she didn't touch them how did she poison them? Did she touch them?_ She had. "You were only in there for two minutes." But that is not the only thing. _Go back and kill them. Make them bleed. They need to pay, need to pay, need to-_ "You said you had to ask them a question."

She pulls him over to a chair, and he sits, too undone to protest. Something weighs heavily on his shoulders, and something still needs to burn. His hands twitch.

She sits down on the floor beside him, her head on his lap. "I did want to know why Kawasaki-san would throw his weight with a city that he hadn't any ties to, the last I've heard." He does his best to listen to her. It is clearly important, despite his current preoccupations. There is more to the world than killing. His gaze is drawn to her hair, which falls loosely over his lap to the floor, a thousand shades of rose gold. She's still holding his hand. He is not ashamed to admit that it is comforting, that her life is comforting, that he so badly needs to be comforted. "But I also wanted to be certain that they were Kawasaki-san's disciples, because he can't cure chakra poisoning."

So she'd poisoned them then, and she is sure that they will die for their crimes. "Why?" She doesn't even like Hashirama. She despises Tobirama. Konoha is...he does not delude himself. Konoha is not her home. She has no reason to defend it.

"You wanted them dead." She traces the line of his collarbone, fingers ghosting up over his pulse, lightly over his jawline, until her hand rests against his cheek. "And I could kill them even if Hashirama did not agree. So please don't worry over them anymore, Madara-sama. They'll die very painfully indeed."

 _They'll die._

His throat is dry, and parched like desert earth when he exhales. "Thank you." The voice in his head that bays for vengeance, bays for blood quiets and settles. He is so tired. So tired.

"No need to thank me." She squeezes his hand, and her hands are warm. _When did I become so cold? So tired._ He aches.

It isn't really that his heart hurts. He's too tired to hurt anymore, and all that's left is a vague, bone deep ache that doesn't go away.

The fire's gone now. There's nothing to burn. He's just ashes without embers, a war hawk without a war, a dog without a home-

"Madara-sama." She tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. "I want to take care of you, so don't thank me."

"It's a thankless task." His eyes slide shut. It is too hard to look at her. People are not fountains of kindness for forever without a reason to be. He hasn't been able to maintain relationships with kindness in a very long time. He burns everything he touches, and he can't entirely believe that he won't burn her.

 _So tired. Why am I tired?_ As Tobirama has said, he is not old, but he feels so spent.

 _Why am I tired?_ He does not know.

He knows such few things, about peace, about Hashirama, about Konoha, about the woman he's married.

"No." She rises, holding his face in her hands tenderly as if any harder and he'd break somehow. He lets it be. She's earned the right to touch him how she chooses. If she wants to be sweet, he'll take it. _It won't stay. Nothing gold can stay._ Her thumb traces the hollow space under his eye, and he hears the conviction in her voice, water strong enough to wear down mountains in its wake. "You don't know how much you're worth."

He opens his eyes.

She has such thin wrists. Against the wide sleeves of her kimono, they seem so much thinner, so much frailer. Her appearance is deceptive. She'd killed three with a touch of those hands that are still sweetly cupping his face.

No stranger to death, but she still looks so frail.

His hands seem so large compared to hers. "What." He asks her. "Exactly am I worth?"

He doesn't know anymore, how she sees him, why she has not turned away. _Patience. Where did you learn not to fear me?_

"When you first arrived in Uzu, I thought you might be a post." _A post...did she think I was incapable of humanity? I was._ She smiles at him, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "And I thought you were tired."

Tired?

He is tired. So tired, but she is still speaking, so he should be listening.

 _And Madara will want to string them up on the walls..._ He should be listening.

"You're a kind man, Madara-sama."

He almost wants to laugh. "Kind?" If only she knew the villages he's burned, the children he's killed, the blood on his hands. _I stopped being kind a long time ago._

She unlaces his armor, and sets the separate plates of it on the floor-he lets her do it; he gains nothing by resisting-and pulls him to his feet once more. He sways slightly.

"Would you have walked at your brother's pace, helped him over the boat, been worried for his well being, been so guilty of his sacrifices for you, if you didn't care for him? Would Konoha mean so much to a cruel man? Men that only know how to live for war do not dream of peace, Madara-sama." Her green eyes are so deep that he could drown in them. "You are more than whatever it is that is the worst of you."

An ocean.

If only she knew what he's done, she'd recoil and he'd be alone. That he does not tell her is simply because he does not want to be, does not want to see the tender cast of those ocean eyes turn to fear and disgust.

"You ought to give yourself a little more credit, Madara-sama." She tucks him into the futon as if he is a very small child.

He doubts it's the first time that she's done this, she is far too practiced, hands sure, but that it is not the first time is strangely comforting.

"Sleep well." She tells him, her eyes still an ocean.

He drifts.

* * *

When he wakes again, his head is a little clearer, but his limbs feel bruised.

It is Izuna who is sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor. "Hashirama was stupid and let them go, didn't he?" There's something terrible and sad about the twist of Izuna's lips. "Oh, Niisan..."

He doesn't want to know how Izuna knows to be disappointed. Izuna's sadness is a terrible weight on his heart. "I don't understand you." He doesn't know how Izuna knows that he is awake. His little brother's words cut him, but he has no more blood, or heart left to bleed.

He's so empty.

"Why do you run after him?" Izuna disregards his previous statement and offers him a hand to pull him up. "He doesn't understand you."

Madara takes the hand, and sits. "You think I want to run after him?" This is a laughable thought- _Honestly, why would I want this sort of destruction? Do you think I want to burn?-_ but bruises don't have the energy to laugh. "Otouto, I cannot-" _Cannot stop._

 _A fool for love. I'm an idiot really._

Izuna jerks his hand away sharply. "You can stop, Niisan. You just haven't tried." Izuna exhales, hands shaking, shoulders tight. "You've been offered someone else to care for, Niisan. Don't neglect that. It's a gift."

Something about Izuna's terrible sadness speaks of something much deeper. "You love Kanae." Those three words taste like sawdust and misery. _Why are the kami so prone to tempting us to misery and ruin? Why did they give me what would have served Izuna so much better?_

Izuna has every right to love Kanae. She is the first woman who treats him as if he's just another person instead of an invalid since he made his choices. But Madara knows that his brother would never, would never act on such a thought. Izuna loves no one in the world more than him; there is nothing Izuna would not give for him.

He has seen it happen. He has watched it happen. There are eyes in his skull because Izuna loves him.

But in another world perhaps, he would have known that Izuna deserved more than what he got before his elder brother botched everything.

"Don't be silly, Niisan." Izuna shrugs. "Neesan is very nice, but you're the one who's supposed to love her. I don't have to love her to tell you that she's almost the only woman who will still care for you after everything you've done." He turns away. "Just don't squander what you have, Niisan. I don't think the gods will give you another chance."

"Madara-sama isn't supposed to do anything regarding me." Kanae's standing in the doorway, a tray in her hands. "He has his own struggle."

She might say this to comfort him, but Madara knows very well what he promised her. _I promised to love and cherish you._

 _I told you I was alright just this morning._

 _I do not love you._

 _I am not alright._

"He made his vows." Izuna rises, and takes the thirteen medium sized steps he'd need to find the door. "He can't keep taking from you without giving forever, Neesan. You deserve more than that."

Kanae laughs, airy and bright. "Madara-sama has given me more than you think." Izuna nods once, curtly and leaves. She spins into the room on dancing feet. "Do you feel any better?"

And he would like to lie to her, but she is asking for his benefit not hers. She knows how he feels very well. "No." He sits there, an arm over his knee, and wonders just what is wrong with him.

 _When did I become so weak?_

 _I could have survived worse than just words a few years ago._

"Konoha isn't good for you." She sets a hand on his shoulder, and sets the tray down by her bare feet. There's a washcloth, a basin of water, and another smaller tray of various powders. "And please don't take this the wrong way, Madara-sama." She dabs his forehead with the cloth, lips pressed together in concentration. "But this place weighs on you."

"Don't tell me." He doesn't need to hear this from her to know that it's true. "I..."

"Take a break." She tells him, and pauses. "There is no need for you to go on like this forever."

And he doesn't really want to, but he has to. "Hashirama will burn the city down."

She snorts. "At this rate, you'll burn the city down first." Her head is on his shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around him. "What did you and Izuna talk about?"

"He cares for you." The words just...slip out. He doesn't believe Izuna's denial.

She blinks at him, her eyes jade green against skin too pale to be porcelain. "I'm rather fond of your brother, Madara-sama, and I am aware that he cares for me, but I don't think he'd like me nearly as much if he had to live with me every day."

"He lives in this house." If he is focused on Izuna, and the issue of Izuna, he can stop considering other things.

"Izuna dislikes being taken care of." She laughs and pulls back. "He'd be dreadfully irritated that I'd attempt to do everything for him." She rises to set his armor back on the rack. "I made lunch too."

"You already take care of him." She isn't making very much sense, and he doesn't understand it. _She thinks Izuna wouldn't want her? Why?_

"Would Izuna appreciate me putting away his armor?" Her hands don't stop, but she sounds contemplative, sounds a little sad. "Or would he insist on doing it himself?"

"Izuna..." He considers it. "Izuna doesn't like the idea that he cannot do things by himself." From a young age, his brother has always been independent. Becoming blind just made all of that worse.

 _Izuna hates being mollycoddled, but is what she does really implying that she doesn't think I can do it myself?_

 _No._ He decides. It is only her nature to arrange things, to anticipate the desires of the people around her, and to respond, to make their lives easier. It makes her happy.

"Exactly." She smiles at him. "You don't think whatever I'm doing is a reflection on whether or not you can or cannot do it by yourself. You just accept that I like these sorts of things." She straightens. "He would feel so constantly undermined by things I do without much thought, and that would be a horrible life for both of us." She sits down across from him, an arm wrapped loosely around her right leg, a mirror of his posture. "He's offended sometimes, if I slide a cup across the table so that he can reach it better. It implies that I think he can't do it himself."

He'd never thought that perhaps, _does Izuna really find those sorts of small things annoying?_

He knows that he does not. "Then he does not know what he is missing." How foolish it is that his little brother wouldn't appreciate things that make life easier.

She shrugs and laughs, and the light hits her face at just the right angle, and it sets her smile aglow. "Not every cat is the same, Madara-sama."

If he is being honest, Uzumaki Kanae is not a woman that he would have found beautiful. If he passed her in the street just a year or two ago, he would have only looked at her twice because of her unusual hair, and even then, she would have been a passing curiosity.

She is as vibrant and bleak as the shores of her homeland. Her face is angular, comprised of sharp edges and uncompromising lines, and it would be hard and harsh, but her lips and eyes lend it a deceptive sort of frailty. Her sister is far more traditionally beautiful, softer lines, fuller lips, gentler curves, but-

But in this moment, Kanae is lovely.

"I am not a cat." She has such strange ideas sometimes. It's perfectly unfair to compare him to those haughty selective creatures.

"You are a cat." Her amusement is so clear, but he can hardly mind that he is the source of her happiness. He can hardly mind the good times, even if he dreads the long descent. "But let's not argue. Come eat lunch before it grows cold."

He takes her hand, and leaves the ache behind for the time being.

* * *

 **A.N.** In which Madara...well, he suffers.

On a happier note, happy late Valentine's Day everyone! It's also Olympic season, so that's always always fun.

Thank you so much to LittleMissSugarLess, angelacorus, stubs1101 (Well, Hashirama isn't as stupid as Madara thinks he is. That's all I can really say about our favorite blockhead and his ability to keep living.), Scarease, TheSilenceIsVast (Well, to be fair, Madara's very very scary.), Natzed202, bunnyguest, wyteeth (Yeah. Madara exists for contradictions, and to be told that he is dark and fearsome of course.), ArdentAlice, Fey (Madara needs to self justify, thus, behold you are my birthday gift.), and Elise142 (I've always thought that Madara was human, just very...empty and lost by the end of his life. It was clear that he could love, but that he just didn't anymore, that he had no hope and was desperately trying to make some.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed.

~Tavina.


	12. After the Rain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise."

-Victor Hugo, _Les Miserables_

* * *

She has made inarizushi for lunch and bought him those pastries that he secretly adores. He sighs. "Are you trying to make sure I don't fit into my armor anymore?" He grumbles. His protests are exaggerated, but at this rate, he'll actually gain weight. Kanae hides a smile behind her sleeve, and says nothing. "And why do we have a new box of pastries? We didn't finish the old one." He squints suspiciously in Izuna's direction. "Izuna?"

"I didn't eat them, Niisan." Izuna flicks a drop of water in his direction from his place at the shogi table. Izuna plays against himself often these days.

He used to play with him, back before Konoha's founding. _Was it really two and a half years ago?_

It has been two and a half years since he last sat down for a game with Izuna. The thought stings. _What else have I neglected?_ His clan perhaps.

He has fought and bled and would have died, would still die for them, but when was the last time he sat down and spoke to Setsuna, or Inami, or Hikaku, or done more than absently smile in any of the children's directions?

He'd only done so at Kanae's suggestion, but now they smile back. Yet beyond Taiko, he doesn't even know any of their names.

 _Kami._

It is easier to turn his mind back to the pastries. _No wonder they do not believe in me. When was the last time I-_

"Sorry, Madara-sama." Kanae hides her face in her hands. "It was my fault. I ate the last pastry. Please don't blame Izuna."

He almost laughs-why shouldn't he laugh?-he laughs, a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop off his chuckles, but it doesn't work as well as he hopes, and when she raises her eyes again, she is so _offended._

He laughs until his sides ache, and he can do nothing but lean back in his chair helplessly shaking.

Kanae stomps around the table and frowns while tilting his face up towards hers. "So mean..." But her eyes are happy. His moods affect her more than he thinks.

More than he'd noticed before. _Does it make you sad when I'm unhappy? I'll be happy for you._ He doesn't know why she cares, what exactly she sees, despite how she'd tried to explain, but he supposes that it's alright.

She does care.

He pulls her closer, so that she sits on his lap, and he can play with the loose strands of her hair. Some of them have escaped the bun. He is almost certain that it is purposefully done to drive him to distraction. "Am I mean?"

"Don't laugh at me." She moans and buries her face in her hands again. "I only ate it because I was hungry and it isn't fair and, and..."

"Niisan." Izuna says, suddenly. "Don't be mean to Neesan."

"I wasn't mean." He examines Izuna's expression. It is the far too innocently neutral look.

He's made a mistake. He'll have to grovel now.

"Neesan!" Izuna wails. "Niisan won't listen to me either!"

Kanae squirms from his hold and promptly bounces over to sit with Izuna. "If Madara-sama won't, won't listen to us, then I'm sure...that...sure that we will have to endure." Her fake sniffling is impressive.

He glares at the two of them with his arms crossed. "What Kami _blessed_ me with two younger siblings?"

Kanae gasps in mock horror. "I'm your wife!"

"And I'm your only brother!" The two of them are in perfect sync.

"You know what I meant." Only now does he remember that it isn't just his _beloved_ otouto who happens to be a younger sibling in his house. Kanae is also the younger sibling of her house, and therefore knew the thousand and one ways to rub elder siblings the wrong way while still appearing angelic.

He suspects that there is a younger sibling gene that codes specifically for angelic faces and that there is an elder sibling gene that codes for structural and emotional weaknesses for the angelic faces of irritating blood kin.

"Oh, we do, Niisan." Izuna decides to have pity on him. _They're only happy that I didn't kill myself this time._

He forgives them for being annoying, for joking at his expense, for everything, anything. He sits there, munching on inarizushi well into the afternoon, and watches Izuna attempt to teach Kanae shogi.

She flails and loses, not once but twice, and he is almost tempted to sit next to her and direct the pieces, but he refrains from it for just a moment.

His eyes bleed red for the briefest of moments, a memory pressing close to his heart.

 _The two dearest people in the world._

And then he sits down next to Kanae and moves a silver general.

Izuna throws a pawn at him. "No fair, Niisan."

He catches it easily and sets it back on the board. "You shouldn't get a big head because you can beat a beginner, Izu- _chan._ "

Izuna flushes bright red from his neck to the roots of his hair.

The game continues as the sun slides down into mid-afternoon.

* * *

He doesn't bother heading to the office the next day. If Hashirama wants to let his attempted murderers go in the meantime, then Madara isn't going to stop him. He isn't even going to think about Hashirama in the slightest today.

Instead, he pries himself out of bed early that morning and follows Kanae to the kitchen.

"Madara-sama?" She blinks at him. "Breakfast isn't ready yet."

"I know." He isn't sure why he's here exactly, just that he'd woken up this morning and didn't feel like pulling the covers over his head and hiding from the sun. She watches him expectantly, patiently, so he continues. This morning, her eyes are soft. "Can I do something?" She is always doing, never still. Her hands are always moving, always engaged in some task or other.

Even now, she wrings out washcloths and heats the stove.

She hands him a basket of apples and a paring knife. "It's not for breakfast, but I was going to try something before lunch today..."

He hums and takes her proffered items. So she's perfectly aware that he is bad at kitchen duty and can't be trusted with a live flame or cooking food. He shouldn't be surprised. Kanae knows him in a disconnected fashion based on observation. Some things she knows, and they surprise him. Some she does not, and that surprises him. She has probably realized long before, which is why she's taken over the kitchen.

Thankfully, he's not incompetent enough to embarrass himself peeling apples. He takes a side of the kitchen table, his back to the window.

She sings mindlessly to herself as she guts fish on the other side of the table. Her movements are deft, sure. She'd been a shinobi once with a name known throughout the nations. Now, she's the wife of a crumbling man.

"Do you ever miss it?" The words slip out before he can stop them. He isn't sure he wants to stop them.

"Miss what?" She gathers the fish guts and heads onto a plate and sets the plate on the floor.

"Being a shinobi." He doesn't think that she likes killing, but she'd asked him once, before they left Uzu, if Uchiha women fought.

It'd been important to her then.

She shrugs. "I was proud of my place in the world, yes." She comes back to wash and scrape the scales off of the fish in the sink. "I'm happy now in different ways."

He reminds himself that he's supposed to be peeling apples, not watching her. It is hard to tear his eyes away. She does look happy.

"So no, Madara-sama, I don't miss being a shinobi." There's an undercurrent of longing in her voice anyway.

"You miss the people you know and the family you have." She doesn't often talk about Uzu, but she'd been beloved there among her father's people if her send off full of crying children had been any indication.

The Clan has done their best to make her welcome here. She'd spoken of Inami's sewing circle. The children love her and come to visit her when he is away. Izuna is always home, but that doesn't erase how much she must miss those she left behind.

"Sometimes." She doesn't claim otherwise. "But I know that they're happy. It's enough."

He nods. _Perhaps._

They lapse into a comforting silence with only the sounds of fish sizzling in the pan and occasionally a shred of apple skin landing on the floor.

He blinks the fatigue from his eyes and covers up a yawn with the back of a hand. He blinks once more.

There's a cat sitting by the plate of fish remains, munching through the bones smugly. It's a very familiar cat.

It's a cat he knows all too well. "Hina?"

The summons turns to him and blinks slowly without answering. "Mrow?" Normally, the summons would find it beneath them not to speak human tongue to a human, but it seems that Hina is being purposely irritating.

Kanae turns to regard them curiously. "Madara-sama, that's Asami."

A vein twitches near his eye. "Asami." That cat is most certainly not Asami. Hina sends him a self satisfied look.

"Yes." Kanae wanders over to scratch Hina behind the ears. "She was hanging around the house, and I didn't know if she had a name, or if she was someone's pet, but I did ask if she wanted to be named Asami, and she seems to like it."

Hina rolls over, waving her legs in the air, and Kanae obligingly pats her on the stomach as well.

"That's not a housepet." How to explain to her that the cat she's so happily showering with attention is actually a summons? "That is one of my summons. Her name is Hina." Well, best say all of it all at once.

"A summons?" She regards Hina with a raised eyebrow. "Do you understand the human tongue? Is your name actually Hina?"

"Mrow?" Hina blinks up at her innocently.

Madara flicks a piece of apple peel at his disobedient summons. "Hina, stop pretending to be only a cat to charm food from my wife. You don't even need to eat."

Hina sends him a very unimpressed look.

Kanae shrugs. "Well, I'll leave you to discuss it with Madara-sama then." She leaves the room. "Izuna?" Breakfast is ready." Her footsteps fade away down the hall.

She's left them alone to fix their differences then. Perhaps she'd known all along that Hina is a summons and only pretended not to notice because there wasn't a reason to erase the illusion. He can't quite tell.

Madara turns to his entirely unrepentant summons. "Why did you lie to my wife?" He can't imagine a reason why Hina wouldn't introduce herself to Kanae, but instead pretend to be a normal cat and let Kanae name her Asami. Hina is proud of herself, of her lineage, of her name.

Hina hops onto the table, her tail raised. "You didn't tell us that you were getting married." She turns her nose up into the air at him. "In fact, it's been forever since you summoned any of us at all."

He feels a twinge of guilt at this. It has been over ten months since he's summoned any of them. _Were they...worried for me?_

"At least, she's kind. She feeds me when I come around." Hina tells him between grooming her right front paw. "You could've chosen worse."

Madara raises an eyebrow. "Were you trying to figure out if my wife is dangerous?" Kanae is, on some level, dangerous but not to him. She is not dangerous to his clan either. The cats should hardly worry over him. "Were you _worried_ about me?"

Hina sniffs and turns up her nose at him, sitting primly on the edge of the table. "What, you think we wouldn't care about our summoner?" He hears her concern in the slight tremble of her voice.

 _I have so many who love me._

The contract has been in the clan for generations now, and both he and Izuna have their names on the scroll.

But then, Izuna doesn't often use chakra or summon anyone anymore. The duties of keeping up the contract have fallen to him, and he dropped them. The thought that follows is somber. "I've neglected you." He holds out a hand. He'd been a better summoner once, before, before he was so _tired._ "I'm sorry."

What had he wasted his life over for the past two and half years? What has be lost by wanting what he cannot have? What is impossible to regain?

Hina blinks. "We didn't want you to be sorry." She bumps her head against his hand. "We want you to be safe." She prances over the table toward him, tail in the air. "You're bad at keeping yourself safe."

He smiles, softly, ruefully. "I know." _But Kanae will._ From the fears that haunt him, from the feelings that plague him, from all the regrets that he weeps like blood.

"She must be special." Hina says as she grooms herself behind the ear with a paw. "You don't like trusting people."

He blinks.

Hina continues. "She's only been here for half a year."

 _Six months._ Did it only take six months to move him?

Less. He's been moved long before this moment.

Perhaps it had been the second time he's seen her break the monotony of the Uzu shoreline. He'd laughed then, for the first time in months, though not in happiness. Perhaps it had been when she asked him for the truth, or when she'd called him a cat or when-

What had her beloved Niisama said about her? _Be careful of how she consumes you._ She'd told him once, that her blood is water, and she is thunder in the sea. Her father had called her a storm.

There are oceans in her eyes.

He is wavering on the edge of something, but he cannot tell what it is.

"Perhaps I am different now." Is all he can really tell Hina as he reaches out to scratch behind her ears.

She nods, her eyes half moon slits with happiness. "Welcome back, Uchiha Madara." And then she promptly disappears into a cloud of smoke.

* * *

"Madara-sama?" She asks, after breakfast, after she's washed all the dishes, and Izuna's gone off to do what it is that Izuna does in the mornings when she turns around and finds that he is still idly sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hmmm." He hadn't meant to do nothing to help her, but Hina's last words are still ringing in his ears. _Welcome back...Uchiha...Madara._

Who had he been before he became tired? Who is he at the moment?

"You've been staring at me for half a minute." She says gently as she comes back to his peeled apples. "Aren't you going to be late soon?"

"Who am I?" He'd been considering the question, and the thought had been swirling in his mind. His mouth has never been a tight gatekeeper for his thoughts. It pops out without warning.

She checks his temperature with the back of her hand. "You don't feel feverish." She mutters to herself before brightening again. "You're Uchiha Madara-sama." There's a teasing lilt to her voice. "Don't tell me you forgot your own name during breakfast because you got up too early."

He smiles. "Humor me for a moment." He pauses to consider how to best word his question. "Who is Uchiha Madara to you?"

She sits down beside him and takes his hand. "Well, you know, there are the basic things, you're my husband, and I l-" She breaks off in the middle of a sentence. "But I don't think that's what you're looking for."

"No." He agrees. _What else were you going to say?_ He hasn't the faintest idea."It isn't quite it."

And how is she to know who he used to be anyway? It is not as if she can answer everything and his question is absurd. _Who is Uchiha Madara to you? I barely know who I am to myself._

"You like green tea and pastries and sleeping late. You love Izuna, and you are fond of me. Your greatest dream is peace." She taps her fingers idly against the table. "You are a man."

She hasn't mentioned his clan, or his eyes, or his position in the village. "Like anyone else then?" No better, no worse than any man she might pass on the street. Strangely, this doesn't sit as well with his heart as it should. He wants something, something, but he doesn't know what it is.

"My favorite fearsome warrior." She laughs and pats his head. "So no, not like anyone else in the world." Her eyes are laughing.

He has a sudden desire to kiss her smile, but he sits there, frozen, hands in his lap. The moment passes. She turns away.

"Aren't you going to be late, Madara-sama?"

Her question brings him back to the reality of the moment. "I'm not leaving today."

"You're not?" There's a question in her voice.

"You told me I should take a break." She'd said that Konoha weighs on him. Maybe it does. So he's not going anywhere today. He's not going to work, not going to bother with duties, and the world won't stop turning even if he ignores them for the day.

She stops cutting up apples. "I did, didn't I?" She sits down across from him. "Is there something you want to do today?"

Something he-he hasn't thought that far. "Come out to lunch with me." She can stop cooking for a day at least. There is a teahouse that he knows, that he's fond of, with gyoza and nigiri and excellent tea.

"With you?" Surprise flits across her features and settles into her wide eyes and parted lips.

Why is she-Six months. He has never asked her to do something with him. "Do you think I would ask you to go alone?"

It is not what he means to say. It is cruel to put it that way, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Still shocked. She shouldn't be.

It cuts him to see her so surprised.

She has not been unhappy here, but she likes people, likes parties and guests and dances. He has offered her none of those. She is surprised by a simple invitation to lunch with him.

A quiet moment settles over them. _I ought to try more._

She smiles brighter than he's ever seen her. "Should I dress up? Where are we going? Is it a place you go often? Is it far from here?" She spins across the room, hands clasped, bare feet battering over the floor.

She darts back to him and pulls him from his chair. She is humming. It took so little to make her happy, a lunch invitation, nothing more.

 _We can go everyday if I can see you like this._

His other hand finds her waist, and they spin together for the time being. He is unused to dancing, but there is no one here to see or judge his stumbles. "A teahouse that I know." He smiles. "They have excellent dessert. And you may wear whatever you like."

Part of her hair comes free of her bun and flies out behind her. "Will people talk about it if we went?" Her eyes are a pale green like the color of willow leaves or clear jade.

He considers it. "They might." But that doesn't matter, except she's thought to ask. "Why?"

She stops and scowls. "They spread awful rumors about you." So she has heard about how they speak of him, of Izuna, of-He doesn't know why he thinks that she wouldn't have. His reputation precedes him. "And if I have one more paper woman come up to me and pity me for being married to you, then I shall slap her and everyone else." Her grip on his hand tightens. "There was a horrible restaurant incident."

"It upset you?" Did she not believe the rumors? Does she not believe that he does have Izuna's eyes? _She can't have believed them. She wouldn't look at me like this if she does._

She hugs him without the slightest warning as though she's afraid that he'll disappear. "They don't deserve you. You've done so much for them, but all they do is call you a monster and spit on your name." She's shaking.

From rage, he realizes. She's angry for him.

She'd known, and she'd called herself Uchiha anyway. She'd known, and she'd defended him. What has he done to inspire this loyalty?

"They will do what they will do." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "But that does not preclude me from taking you to lunch." Something about the way she looks at him sets him on fire. "So wear whatever you'd like."

His good mood will not be dispelled today.

She bounces up and kisses him, a quick press of her lips against his cheek that cools his blood and leaves the world in sharp clarity. "Then I'll let you arrange the food for today, Madara-sama." She pauses before she leaves the room. "Izuna?"

"I'll speak to him." He's sure Izuna will understand. He's also sure that his darling otouto will tell the entire district that he is going out to lunch with his wife, which may or may not spark festivities in more than one house in the district as his clan toasts to his happiness.

Just thinking about it makes him embarrassed. _They are all inappropriate gossips, the lot of them._

But it is a fond sort of embarrassment. _But I do suppose they love me._

* * *

They wander through the market together, wearing matching dark clothing, her hair pinned up, and his armor put away. It has been a long time since he's walked the village with nothing more than his wakizashi by his side. He decides that it is a strange feeling.

But at the moment, they are walking about the market because there is still time to kill before an early lunch.

"Isn't it pretty, Madara-sama?" She points at a painting, a depiction of a koi fish. He agrees. It _is_ pretty.

He leans down to whisper in her ear. "Do you want it?" It can go on the wall over her sewing table if she likes it.

She considers it. "No, that's alright." The curve of her smile is amused. "I would dream of you turning into a cat and attempting to consume it if I could see it every day."

An affronted snort escapes him before he can stop it. "I _will_ not. Who do you take me for?"

The chatter around them stops. _Oh, was that loud enough to be heard by other people?_ They've paused to stare.

"I only said that I would dream about it." She watches him with falsely innocent eyes. "I did not say that you would eat a painted koi fish in real life." _Oh for the love of..._

He pokes her cheek with a finger. "Stop ruining my image."

She giggles from behind her folding fan. "I can't help it. You make it easy."

He sets a hand on her waist-they still stare at her bare legs and that irritates him-and continues onto the next attraction. "You like hair pins?"

"Mmmhmmm." She agrees. "I like my hair too, almost as much as you."

He half growls, but there's no heat in it. He is fond of her hair. The curls of it conspire to drive him to distraction at times. What does it matter that every man in the near vicinity knows it? It will not be their hands tangled in her curls, watching her laughing eyes. "Am I an object for you to use in your jokes?"

"You should know me better than that, Madara-sama." But they do not stop at the hair ornaments either. "I already have so many. There isn't a need for you to get me new ones."

Still, before they move on, a flash of gold catches his eye. _Phoenixes._ Uchihas are associated with fire, and in the sunlight, her hair burns like flame, glowing gold. He has seen them, and he now desperately wants to see them in her hair.

"To lunch then?" He asks. He'll come back for them later when she can't persuade him not to buy them. Surely, she won't return them after he's already given them to her.

He'll see them in her hair often.

"To lunch." She agrees.

He pushes aside the hanging curtain that doubles as a door and escorts her into Mufu-an. "A private table for two."

"Of course, Uchiha-sama." Yamaguchi-san shows them into the lounge room and bows once to Kanae. "You must be the Kanae-hime that I've heard so much of from Taiko-kun. I am Yamaguchi Daiki."

She covers a smile with her sleeve. "Only good things, I hope, Yamaguchi-san."

"Of course." Taiko adores her, if only for finally settle matters with the Hyuga next door. Most of the children do.

Yamaguchi-san blinks. "The usual to begin, Uchiha-sama?"

"For me, yes." He turns to Kanae. "Tea and an opening course?"

"Chrysanthemum tea." She leans forward. "Would you happen to have ikayaki?" _Squid._

She is from Uzu. It is to be expected. He's the one who's not fond of seafoods beyond certain types of fish.

"Of course, Kanae-hime." Yamaguchi-san leaves, and they are alone, away from the eyes of the village.

"You like ikayaki?"

"I miss it." She shrugs. "Obaasan makes the best ikayaki on the Island, and you don't like seafood."

"We've never had any." She hasn't even tried to make seafood before, but somehow she guesses correctly.

"You didn't like Shishou's turtle soup." The corners of her mouth turns down as she tries desperately not to laugh. "And Shishou's turtle soup is delicious which must mean that you dislike seafood."

"I've had better boiled leather." He does not mean to be insulting, only that it is true that he vehemently dislikes turtle.

She breaks into side splitting giggles, so hard that she has to lay her head on the table. "S-so, what did you order?"

"Gyoza and green tea." _What sensible people eat. But I should've known that you aren't sensible._

They settle into a comfortable silence as they wait for the food to come back. She watches him from across the table, her head propped up on a hand.

He watches her as well, watches the tapping of her fingers, the way the noon sun hits her hair, and the curve of her smile.

He still wants to kiss that smile. He doesn't know why he doesn't. _Surely, I don't have to be hesitant about kissing my own wife? She doesn't object to it._ These thoughts don't normally cross his mind, but today he drowns in them, halfway between desire and doubt. He has never kissed her in public, or indeed in any place someone else might see.

He's not sure he wants to begin, not sure if the idle queasiness in his stomach is longing or revulsion.

"Madara-sama?" She asks idly. "You normally come here with someone else?"

It's not really a question. "Hashirama and I discussed building plans at the front table here before he married your sister, and Tobirama would sit around scowling and declaring things both impractical and senseless." The corner of his mouth turns down. "They are not pleasant memories."

He'd not been content with them, never comfortable, but they'd been all he had.

It is different now, but his throat feels dry nonetheless. _Does it bother you?_ He wants to ask, but his stomach twinges uncomfortably, and all his throat manages is "Why?"

She shrugs, but she doesn't seem unhappy about it. "Yamaguchi-san blinked twice when he saw me on your arm, but he knows your typical order, and you don't seem like the type of person who would go out to eat alone." She leans across the table at him, a mischievous quirk to her lips. "I just wondered, because teahouses are affiliated with the red-light district, if this is where you liked to bring your favorite girl." The look in her eyes says that she's joking at his expense again.

She's been doing that all day.

Most clan heads keep mistresses, and teahouses are affiliated with the red light district more often than not. Most noblemen keep more than one wife. He's walked into this one by himself.

He stretches her smile with a finger so that it is lopsided. "I am offended that you think I had a mistress I did not tell you about."

The women who shared his bed had never stayed long. Mostly, because he didn't like looking at them afterwards. None of them could have possibly been called his mistress, and the red light district bothers him on an instinctual level. Something about selling flesh, about exchanging intimacies for money makes his skin crawl.

It is difficult to explain why the red light district discomfits him more than the contract he'd signed with Uzu to marry the woman across from him. Is it not only a different form of selling? Is it not still an exchange of some...sort?

She is holding his hand. "Madara-sama? The food is here."

He nods. He'd promised himself to be happy today, to take a break, but it seems as though his mood is a rock tied to his ankles, and he will never break free of these thoughts.

She'd told him that she had not been a piece to barter and sell, that she'd made a choice and that she continues to make choices, but still, still in some ways, he doubts, not her exactly, but himself. Is he reading too much into her care?

"Madara-sama, I don't truly believe you would..." She sighs. "It was a tasteless joke. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's supposed to be a happy day." Something about all this is bitter somehow. He is the only one ruining the mood. "I'm not very good at being happy anymore."

She picks up a gyoza with her chopsticks and holds it in front of his mouth. "You can learn again, if you want to."

He examines the food before him, the way it's presented to him, and frowns. "I might not be good at being happy, but I can f-" _feed myself just fine._

She stuffs the entire dumpling in his mouth. "I was trying to he-"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence. He leans over the table and kisses the smile that's been driving him mad all day. It tastes like pork and rice vinegar. "You were not trying to help."

"You're right." She agrees cheerfully as she picks up a piece of squid. "I was trying to drive you mad. I think I succeeded."

He closes his eyes for a long moment. _I should have known._

* * *

The children are sitting in various places in the courtyard by the time they return. "Kanae-hime!" Taiko starts to his feet. "And Madara-sama." He bows low. "Izuna-san said that you went out."

It is obvious that they were out, but Taiko is babbling, wringing his hands.

"Yes." Madara agrees. "We went out." He doesn't want to give Kanae up to them yet. Lunch had been fun, despite his sudden descent into self-pity, and he's sure the rumors are already spreading faster than wildfires, that Uchiha Madara is _fond_ of his wife. Perhaps they'll find a new way to twist his life into knots.

There's no one who will say it to his face besides Tobi-teme, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hear it and feel it all the same.

"Kanae-hime, can you sing us a song?" A small pig-tailed girl tugs on Kanae's sleeve while casting glances up at him. She doesn't seem frightened, just questioning.

He does his best to smile. _You look frightening to them when you don't, Madara-sama. They've made up stories about how you eat bad children, you know._

The child squeaks and blushes and hides her face behind her hands. He is mystified. _Is it something I did?_

Kanae casts him an amused glance. "Of course, Momo-chan. Just get my koto."

Momo then. This child's name is Uchiha Momo. He commits it to memory. He ought to know more about his clan.

He strides forward. Her time's no longer his. Perhaps he can bear to look at more petitions to join Konoha. There are only smaller clans left now, beyond the Inuzuka who have yet to move down from the mountains. They're taking their sweet time.

He has time to read them today. He's not tired enough to justify putting them off. They're necessary. He just doesn't want to read them because the security considerations always give him a headache.

"Madara-sama?" Kanae catches his elbow. "Will you stay?" And how can he say no to those eyes? He doesn't need to do anything today. He just needs her to be happy.

One of the children brings her koto, and he sits and listens to her stories and her songs as if he is no different than them.

Perhaps he isn't. Perhaps he's just a child still.

The muggy afternoon winds lazily down through the hours; Kanae's songs turn into lullabies, and Momo falls asleep on his lap, her small arms wrapped around his middle.

Kanae rises. "I'll go and get some fruit? Who wants apple slices?"

There's a murmur of affirmation from the gathered group, and she disappears into the house.

He leans back against the pillar, and a boy creeps forward. "Madara-sama? Is it-" He pauses, a hand over Momo's shoulder.

"It's fine." It really is fine. It is a quiet afternoon, and Inami's younger child is asleep on his lap. It is not uncomfortable, despite his protesting leg. Perhaps he does like children. He isn't certain.

Momo shifts and sighs, a small hand tightening on the edge of his shirt. His heart is warm.

The other children gather around. "You really don't mind?" Do they think he'll be upset? He does not mind them, but he has never bothered to speak to them much before. They don't know him. "I really don't."

"I'm Akira." The boy sits down on his other side opposite of Momo. "Momo's my imouto." _Uchiha Akira._ Inami's eldest child. He makes sure to remember this as well.

"And I'm Rei-chan!" She waves and smiles.

Taiko only nods, but the rest of the children in his courtyard say nothing to introduce themselves.

It'll take time then.

He nods absently.

Momo stirs. "Sorry, Madara-sama." She mumbles to his thigh. "'M sleepy."

"Don't be sorry." His leg's fallen asleep, but if he asks her to leave him alone now, he doubts that any of them will ever speak to him again. If he has a daughter, would she look like Momo with dark eyes, dark hair, and pale skin?

Or would she have Kanae's red hair and green eyes? Years from now, would he sit here with his own children instead of just the clan's? Will Kanae still sing them songs and tell them stories? He can't quite believe that he'll live that long.

Can't quite believe that life will offer him so much.

The daydream slips away from his fingertips until all that's left is a raw ache for something that he doesn't believe in but could be.

"Madara-sama?" Rei-chan, emboldened by his previous responses, shifts forward as well, so that she is sitting directly across from him. "Do you think Kanae-hime is pretty? Where did you go for lunch?" A pause, a beat as he dreads the next question. _Will they ask me if I love her? What do I say if they do?_ "Do you-"

"Rei" Akira hisses. "Don't ask something like that. It's rude."

Rei frowns at him. "It's not rude. He didn't even meet Kanae-hime before he married her, and Kanae-hime likes us, so we should like her too."

"We went to Mufu-an for lunch." It is the easiest question to answer. _Where we went to lunch._ "And yes, Kanae is pretty." It's not exactly what he means, but he doubts they really want to know about his fascination with her hair, her laughing eyes, her quiet strength, her. Uzumaki Kanae is fascinating.

Thankfully he doesn't have to answer Rei's last question. Not thankfully, it's for terrible reasons.

"Mada!" Hashirama flings open the door to his courtyard. "Mada are you-"

It's an inopportune time. He smooths down Momo's messy locks with a hand. "I am sorry. You will likely not get to keep sleeping." Hashirama is excitable and loud when he's not depressed. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. He nudges her toward the door. "Go inside...for dessert." Kanae had said something about fruit and something else about sweets on the way back.

He doubts she would mind if he sends them all into the kitchen.

He doesn't want them to see him lose his temper with Hashirama. Or if he doesn't lose his temper, he'll still be a wreck either way.

It was supposed to be a day where he didn't have to think about matters of the heart, or the village, or how the thought of Hashirama coming to see him out of concern still makes his heart flip and his stomach fill with wasps, stinging and fluttering.

He's sick. His heart is sick, and it does not understand how to be normal, clearly. Looking at Hashirama still makes his heart expand painfully in his chest. He doesn't know what he wants from Hashirama, only that it is something, a plea for understanding, something buried so deep that he doesn't even know what it means anymore. He's not sure he wants to know, not sure if knowing would be better than not knowing, only knows that it makes him sick either way.

He'd thought about kissing Kanae all morning, but the moment Hashirama appears he's magnetically drawn to the crinkled laugh lines around Hashirama's eyes.

"You woke them up." He scowls, but that's not what he wants to do. It's just what he's used to by now. Speaking to Hashirama has always frustrated him, but these days, it frustrates him more to not know if it is Hashirama that is the problem, or if it is himself.

"You're much better these days. It's a relief, you know." Hashirama sits down next to him. "I said such untoward things to you yesterday, I'm sorry." So he's here for serious things then. It wasn't so much concern that drove him here, but guilt.

Madara stares at his hands. "It didn't bother me." _Sure. It didn't bother me so much that I came home and passed out._

"You don't mean that." Hashirama turns and tries to meet his eyes, but Madara turns away. Looking at his oldest friend is a painful experience, rubbed raw mostly by his own fool heart. "You're not made of stone, Mada. You were concerned about me, and all I did was insist on things. I didn't consider how you were feeling, and I'm sorry." It's the way he says that word, ' _sorry_ ' a hitch to it, voice broken and small.

Madara's hands twitch, but they stay in his lap like they're supposed to. "You made your own considerations." No matter how strong their friendship is, and they are good friends-Hashirama would die for him without a second thought, had in fact, nearly died at Izuna's insistence-it will never quite be enough for the differences between them.

Not now, when he feels too much and thinks too little, when his emotions weigh like stones at the bottom of the river instead of skipping across to the other side, when every misstep drowns him deeper into quicksand. Not now.

"That's just it though." Hashirama gestures widely and nearly hits him in the face. "I thought of Konoha, but I didn't think of you, and it wasn't enough. I hurt you." Hashirama doesn't bother to smile, he lets his lips express just as much pain as his eyes this night.

Madara's always known, on some level, that Hashirama hates war as much as he does, that Hashirama has felt a equal amount of pain, that Hashirama, despite his idiosyncrasies and unfortunate bad habits and too much goodwill, isn't an idiot. It's just never more clear than at this moment, when the smiling mask comes off and the tears shine through.

Still, this conversation makes his skin crawl, and his heart bleed, and his hands want to do things that they shouldn't dare fantasize. He climbs to his feet, suddenly bruised. "I forgive you. You didn't mean it." No, Hashirama's intentions are always good, whether it is throwing a stone across the river to warn a boy, or deciding to let prisoners go because executing them would start a war.

Hashirama has good intentions, and he fights to incapacitate more than he fights to kill. He wants to be friends with everyone, even the ones that have hurt him, and adores his wife and loves his brother and despises his paperwork with burning passion.

It is not his _fault_ that on occasion he's obtuse until he has time to reflect. It's not his _fault_ that he is stubborn and intractable that he wants to move mountains and build forests and to hell with other people's opinions while he's moving.

It's not his _fault_ that sometimes he hurts the people closest to him because he says the first truth that comes to mind.

It is not his fault, so Madara forgives him.

"Do I hurt you without meaning to a lot?" Hashirama looks back at him with a rueful smile and slumped shoulders, his hands clasped together loosely, his elbows on his knees.

 _Every time I look at you._ "No."

"You're still a bad liar." Hashirama turns away. "You haven't gotten better in fifteen years."

"And you're still a blockhead." Madara pushes him off the edge of the porch, and Hashirama barely has time to yelp before sprawling out ungracefully in the dust. "You haven't gotten better in fifteen years."

"Are you coming back to work tomorrow?"

Madara considers his normal amount of paperwork, considers double that for missing a day, considers how much fun he's had wrecking people's opinions of him today, considers how happy Kanae had been to be asked out to lunch- "No." He watches Hashirama's shoulders slump, watches the light fade from his eyes before adding the final nail to the coffin. "I'm never coming back to work again, _Hokage._ " _You're welcome to your paperwork hell._

 _I quit._

"Madaa! You can't mean it! How will I live?! How will I conquer the paperwork demons? Oh my kami..."

And there it is again, Hashirama sobbing a river in his courtyard instead of winding around useless apologies that end up going nowhere.

His heart settles. "I do." He doesn't entirely mean it. He'll be back before the week is over, but Hashirama doesn't need to know that.

* * *

Madara isn't even upset when Hashirama banishes the prisoners from the gates of Konoha two days later. He's lost the ability to care, seeing as they'd be dying slowly and painfully anyway. What does it matter if it is within or miles without? Kanae has promised, and she does not break promises. They will be dead soon enough to cool his rage.

The Uzumaki sisters are whispering between themselves, heads together, shoulders pulled in. Kanae makes a sharp gesture and jabs a finger in the direction of the gate. He wonders briefly, what they could be having a disagreement over. Kanae is close to her sister, and they rarely disagree from what he has observed.

"I'm surprised, Mada." Hashirama says, "You're not upset anymore. I thought you'd be angrier than this."

Madara resists the urge to glare at him. _No, really?_ "Clearly, you don't know me very well, then." Madara mutters from the corner of his mouth. It's not entirely true, of course. If not for Kanae's quick thinking, he'd be angry still. Hashirama does not know that he is sending those three out to inevitable death. It is better this way. The news will be a surprise for him.

He certainly isn't happy with Hashirama still when it comes to these prisoners-Kanae had mentioned what her father would do, and he'd realized with a sinking heart that Hashirama would never consent to such an act-which is why he speaks to cut, to wound. It is a bad habit that he cannot shake, much like most of his other habits.

"Mada." Hashirama sinks into almost crippling depression. "I can almost swear that you liked me better before."

"I like you better with your mouth shut." He cannot still his tripping tongue, cannot stop the flood. Why can't he stop? It's useless. His mouth and tongue don't bother to obey him completely on the best of days anyway. Most things don't bother to obey. What does it matter that his tongue is a traitor too?

"M-" Hashirama opens his mouth to protest further, but he never does get to finish. Madara shifts forward. Izuna had not come today. It is a blessing. There is only Kanae who he must protect.

Tobirama steps in front of Hashirama almost instinctively.

There's a change in the air, something moving in the trees. Something human. Something dangerous. The Uzumaki sisters pay it no attention.

Two red blurs flash past the village gates faster than the guards can manage to close them and sweep Kanae up into two pairs of arms. "Save us, Shiko-chan!" Two voices shriek in unison. "We're on the run from the law!"

The two blurs are...people. Two completely identical young men with red hair, hazel eyes, sun-kissed skin, and matching crooked smiles. There's a sharp edge to their flashing white teeth, as though they're more than their silliness, but they do look human enough despite that.

Madara unclenches his grip on his gunbai and releases a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. Kanae's brothers will not harm her...he doesn't think so at any rate.

From what he remembers...one of them is Ashiro, because they both look like the young man who had identified himself as Ashiro back in Uzu. He just doesn't know which one of them happens to be Ashiro.

They are identical, down to the sweep of their hair, the tilt of their heads, the gestures they make as they speak, and the cut of their smiles. The wild flailing of their arms seems almost rehearsed in how exactly they mirror each other.

"You're on the run from the law?" Kanae asks the both of them, an eyebrow raised. "What law could you possibly be running from on the Western Blue?" She addresses them like they are one person, neither distinct nor separate. Then, they do not act like separate men.

"It's awful. It's awful." They chant in perfect unison, disharmonious still. Madara is reminded of large squawking gulls. "We were only going to cheat a merchant out of his life savings. It was entirely his fault that he agreed to a game."

Kanae snorts, a hand holding one of their elbows. "I'm assuming the Daimyo from the Land of Water liked that idea so much."

They nod furiously. "He did! He wanted to send us to prison. We did nothing wrong."

Mito hides her face behind her fan. "Shiro, Ruta." She sounds exasperated but fond as well. "Why am I not surprised?"

They turn to look at her, arms crossed. Neither of them seems to react to one name more than another. "But we didn't mean anything bad." They spin Mito around, laughing with their heads thrown back. "We wanted to visit you!"

Mito laughs. "There wasn't any lawlessness committed. You weren't practicing thievery. You just wanted so see me, so you made up an excuse." Madara heavily doubts it, but Mito doesn't seem to notice that her brothers both look guilty. Maybe it is their natural state.

"Mmmm..." One of them rubs the back of his neck. It's the first action they've made to separate themselves.

"Of course, that's what we meant," says the other, smiling brightly. "We have a new niece or nephew to corrupt!"

Mito draws back, a frown on her face. "You two are not corrupting my child."

Kanae giggles, and her brothers as one revert to spinning her around. "Shiko-chan! Help us! Help us! Neesan's upset with us! Save us!"

Madara takes a step forward and removes Kanae from their grasp. "You're making her dizzy." His justification is rather weak. He's not entirely comfortable with how loud they are, how bright, how wild. The glint of metal hanging from their belts flashes in the morning sunlight. The blades are not kunai. They look more like hooks, but much larger than any fishing hooks he's ever seen for the fish of the Nakano.

What was the trade that Kanae said her brothers practiced again? He doesn't entirely remember. Something about large fish, of that he's certain. The blades seem to be tools of the trade.

Kanae is happy to see them. Madara hasn't seen her so bright in a long time, not since he'd first asked her out to lunch.

She might be brighter now than she was then. It is hard to say.

"Shiko-chan." One of them says. "Aren't you going to protect us from Neesan's wrath?"

"Of course, I will Ruta-nii." She prods him in the cheek. So that one is Uzumaki Aruta. The other must be Uzumaki Ashiro then. He hasn't the faintest idea how she's able to tell. Strange, that Ashiro doesn't seem to recognise him. "But aren't you supposed to be old enough to take care of yourselves now?"

"Old?" Ashiro clutches his chest. "Old? We can't be old! We're only nineteen! How can we be old already?"

Aruta hobbles around them at breakneck speeds. "Oh no, I feel my sinews failing and collapsing in on themselves! We'll be old men by sundown! What will we do, brother? How will we survive?"

"It is impossible!" Declares the other in a dramatic swoon backwards. "The only fate left for old men is inevitable death!"

Clearly not. They are both younger than Madara himself, and Kanae hadn't even called them old, just old enough.

"Neither of you are old." He mutters. _They cannot possibly be like this all the time. How do their parents cope with them?_

"Oh." Aruta pauses and stares at him. "We meet again, Uchiha-san."

As he suspected then. The young man he'd met in Uzu was using his brother's name. Everyone who has ever lived in Uzu enjoys being confounding. It seems to be a trend.

"Indeed." He comments rather dryly. "And it seems as though you gave me the wrong name."

Aruta blinks. "Did I give you the wrong name? Sometimes I forget which name belongs to me...I was sure that I..." He trails off into indistinguishable mutters.

"Ruta-nii, you use Shiro-nii's name all the time." Kanae elbows him lightly in the stomach, and drags her other brother forward. "Come on, you've been traveling for forever now and I bet you cheapskates didn't eat."

"Did you hear that?" Ashiro asks Aruta behind Kanae's back.

"She called us cheapskates!" Aruta clasps his chest with his free hand.

"Shiko- _chan!_ " They wail in unison. "You're so _mean!"_

"I'm not mean." She chirps at them. "Madara-sama, if I let go of them we'll never be able to find them." She sighs and turns back to watch him with laughing eyes. "We should go home."

 _We should go home._

 _And then we will figure out why your brothers are here in the first place._

She pulls her brothers along by the wrist, a wrist for each hand of hers, and Madara follows along behind.

* * *

 **A.N.** This chapter is mostly unreservedly romance heavy and full of things that make Kanae giddy. Of course, because it's Madara, he manages to make it depressing at times all the same.

Thanks so much to Elise142, MidnaMoo, bunnyguest, Scarease, stubs1101, angelcorus, Fey, dianalillian, CrystalVixen93, and Appirinia (I'm so glad you like how it's going so far. I think at this point, there's a lot that Madara's already let go of in terms of Hashirama and Konoha, he just hasn't realized it yet, and I'm not sure when he will notice it.) for reviewing!

And everyone else who favorited and followed.

~Tavina


	13. The Changing Tide

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Heal yourself first. The rest will come later."

-Unknown

* * *

Their visitors sit one on either side of Kanae at the kitchen table.

"So, Shiko-chan!" One of them begins. "You called us for our services?" _Services._ So Kanae _did_ call her brothers to come see them. He'd wondered about why they showed up. It wasn't on a whim after all, despite how casual they'd made it seem at the gates.

They'd acted like they'd just happened to pass by. They weren't just passing by.

It might still have to do with the released prisoners, but he hasn't any idea why. They are already dead, so there's no need to monitor them or kill them again.

"Can't I invite you here to visit me? Can't I miss you?" Kanae props her head up on her hands and pouts. "Why must you think the worst of me?"

"Oh, but Shiko-chan!" The other one ruffles her hair. "Why would you ever do that? We're so awful that no one ever misses us!" They are far too cheerful to believe what they're saying.

No, indeed, they just seem to say the first inane thing that comes to mind. _Just like seagulls or something._

"What do you think she wants you here for?" Madara takes a seat across from one of them. They are close, Kanae and her twin brothers, in ways that he cannot hope to touch.

"Uchiha-san," Ashiro begins. "We're whalers by trade normally..."

Madara's lips twitch. "Let me guess, you two have an alternative job description."

Aruta claps his hands together. "We've got a winner, Shiro." He grins, sharp white teeth flashing in the early light. "We're assassins."

"And informants." Ashiro adds absently as he rummages about inside his pouch. "Best information dealers on this side of the Western Blue."

Madara raises an eyebrow at Kanae. "Why did you invite your assassin brothers to come visit us?" _Who do we have to kill?_ He doesn't think they're here for only a social visit. They might be here because they don't trust him with Kanae, but they're likely here for some other reason as well. Kanae trusts him with herself just fine.

"Kawaki-san might retaliate since I sent his students back to him dead, and I don't trust the Senju to be good at keeping Neesan safe." Kanae sighs, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I wanted them to check on how angry Kawaki-san is as well."

So she wants informants, not assassins.

"So there was a price for killing them." She'd done it for him, had risked someone's anger and her sister's life for his peace of mind. _Am I truly so weak now?_ Perhaps he is. Perhaps his mind's a cracked and splintered mirror-He breathes. There will be time for reflection later. Yes. Later. Not in front of the guests.

"Everything has a price." Aruta flips a coin up into the air. "All that you need to consider is if you want to pay the toll." Two pairs of hazel eyes watch him from the other side of the table. Kanae just looks exasperated.

"Or," Ashiro adds. "If you're comfortable with someone else paying the toll for you."

They're surprisingly serious now that they are all away from prying eyes and ears. Aruta pulls a deck of cards out of his sleeve, and Ashiro slaps down a pair of dice. "How about a game?" They chorus.

Madara sighs and reaches forward for the dice. He might as well roll first.

Kanae slaps them both upside the head. "Oh, for goodness's sake. He's your brother. Don't charge him."

"Ah, but Shiko-chan!" Ashiro rubs his ear.

"We were only going to lift a little bit of his life savings!" Aruta sighs, eyes wide and innocent, shimmering with tears. He too rubs his ear, a mirror of his brother.

Kanae crosses her arms and rises. "You're going to make me poorer is what it is, my money grubbing Onii-chan. Can't you do anything out of the goodness of your hearts?" She disappears out the kitchen door. "My two most terrible onii-chan."

"But Shiko-chan!" They wail after her. "We don't have any goodness in our hearts! We don't even have hearts!"

Oh, yes. She'd said that her brothers are terrible cheaters at dice and cards.

Terrible cheaters.

Dice and cards.

They look angelic and innocent when he examines them. _My heavens, are they worse than Izuna?_ It is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thought. No one ought to be worse than Izuna when Izuna is trying to be angelic.

"Are you certain you want to play?" He asks them both as his eyes bleed red. One thing he's learned through a lifetime of war: the sharingan makes cheating at the gambling tables so much easier. Kanae doesn't know that he's also a horrible terrible no good and very bad cheater at dice and cards. She might have a worse opinion of him if he tells her considering how much she disapproves of her brothers' cheating habits.

They both slump. "Aw, you're no fun." They look like disgruntled toddlers with their chins on the table, arms outstretched in his direction. "Why do you have to have the cheating eyes, Otouto?"

"Otouto?" He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at them. "I'm at least five years older than both of you."

They grin at him, matching smiles, matching eyes, and slightly different tousled red hair. "Oh, but you're married to our only imouto. We've always wanted a little brother, and now we've got one!"

He considers them, considers their boisterous wild ways, their lack of honor, their love-they love like water. "I am your brother because I married your sister?"

"Of course." They nod cheerfully, all cat wide smiles and glittering teeth. "You're the only little brother we'll ever get."

Alright. At least they didn't ask to be his younger brothers. He only recognises Izuna as his younger brother, Izuna and three gravestones far from here back at the outposts. "I've never had an aniki before." He doesn't mean to make the admission, but he also doesn't want to take it back now that he's said it.

"Well," Ashiro says, still cheerful. "Now you have five-Kyoya-nii, Korui-nii, Masato-nii, Shiro-nii, and Ruta-nii."

"Should we include Senju-san?" Aruta asks his brother while lazily tapping his fingers on the table.

"No." Ashiro blinks at him. "We don't like Senju-san enough remember? He doesn't get to be an honorary Uzu citizen."

He would be amused by this, by how apparently at least two of Uzumaki Ashina's sons can't stand Hashirama for some reason, but Kanae reappears with a matching set of blades and the Twins bounce out of their seats towards her.

"What's this, Shiko-chan?" One of them asks, holding a blade up to the light.

"Is it our twentieth birthday present?" The other responds, mirroring his brother.

Madara half suspects that they only do so to irritate the people surrounding them, to be confounding and confusing and irritating. Thankfully, the sharingan's picked apart some of their differences.

Aruta has a slight scar on his right hand that his brother does not. Just a silver line, but it's all that's necessary to differentiate them.

"Did our imouto-chan get us presents before we could deliver hers?" They both clutch their chests and gasp, collapsing backwards upon the walls. "Oh no! We've failed, we've failed! We're failure brothers!"

And with that, they begin pulling packages of various sizes out of their pouches. None of which, should theoretically be able to fit into leg pouches.

 _Do they also have their ship in there?_ But no, that would be too unusual. No, instead they ply Kanae with gifts large and small. "Happy Birthday!" Streamers appear rapidly over her head and dazzle the senses.

She laughs delightedly, and he captures the moment and presses it close to his heart. A laughing Kanae surrounded by a wild burst of color.

"Haha got you new clothes, and Masato-nii made you a new black box for your inventory-this one's got carvings done in ivory-and Niisama got you this blade; Habiki-sama cried for you into a flask; Korui-nii wrote you new explosive tags; Obaasan made you a rose-gold and cream pearl hair net; the girls made you new hair ribbons; Chichi got you this..." Ashiro drops a scroll into Kanae's outstretched hands, and then the two of them lean forward together. "And we got you a zither."

There are presents spread out over the table, proof of so much love that her sadness so many months ago is understandable. _If this is what she is used to, then that night was not enough._ His hope is not enough.

Would she like a party next year, like dancing and music and lights and guests? Would the clan like to give her presents, and would she laugh? Would she like a trip to Uzu, or an open invitation for her family members to come see her?

"Zuzu!" The Twins bounce toward the door and pull Izuna from the doorway and into the kitchen. "We got you sesame candy from Mizu! We hope you like it!" They push a package in Izuna's direction.

 _Zuzu._ He wasn't aware that Izuna even met Kanae's twin brothers, much less become such good friends that he doesn't mind them mangling his name.

"You're still the same." Izuna resists being dragged into the room, but he does step forward. "I thought that you both only act like this at home."

He doesn't recall leaving Izuna alone except-oh, yes. The night that Kanae took Izuna dancing, and he'd spent the night sitting on a rock. Izuna had been alone then.

It hadn't been a good night. Maybe Izuna met them then and didn't mention it afterward? He hadn't been a good conversationalist that morning either.

"We act like this all the time and everywhere, Zuzu." Aruta laughs, waving his hands around.

"So you're always nonsensical?" Izuna sits down at the table across from him. "I mean, the first time I met you, you asked a blind man to play cards."

"A blind man can play shogi." Aruta sits down on the table, his right leg carelessly crossed over his left. Ashiro vanishes out the door. "So a blind man can play cards."

Izuna smiles, soft and small and self-assured. "The last time we played, it was strip poker? Are you sure you want to do that again?"

They'd taken his little brother to play strip poker? With who? Them? Other people? How badly had Izuna lost? Why didn't he seem embarrassed?

"Oh come," Aruta leans back, hands behind his head. "It was fun."

"It was quite shameless." Izuna counters. "And I didn't even get to enjoy the show."

"I'm shameless." Aruta agrees, bright smile, bright eyes, bright with mischief.

"Ruta-nii." Kanae lays a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Please don't give Madara-sama a heart attack. We know you're terrible, no need to rub it in."

Uzumaki Aruta grins, sharp and quick. "I make no promises, Shiko-chan."

She spins away, gathering up her gifts in her arms, and kisses him on the cheek as she passes. Madara raises a hand and pulls her back to kiss her on the lips. He no longer cares that there are people here to see. He is fond of his wife, and the taste of that affection is sweet. Why shouldn't he enjoy it while it lasts?

Aruta whistles. "I'll have another niece or nephew to corrupt soon, won't I?"

"Oniichan!" Kanae flushes bright red. "Don't say that!"

Aruta sighs. "I did say I was shameless." His hazel eyes are clear, and his mood is serious enough that he doesn't seem like he's joking.

Kanae laughs and pats him on the head twice before she leaves the room.

Aruta's good mood evaporates in the space she leaves behind. "Our goodwill is conditional." He announces. "Hurt Kanae-chan and we really will be terrible." His teeth are sharp, and his smile is sharp, and his eyes are the two flinty frozen stars. "And remember, we're shameless, so guest right and all doesn't mean much to us."

He is not frightening. Madara's met more frightening things, more terrifying people, but he has no intention of breaking their goodwill and tells Aruta so.

The young man breaks out into good natured laughter. "Then we'll be brothers forever, Otouto. Welcome to our Uzu family." He stabs himself through the neck with a kunai and disappears in a puff of air.

An elemental clone.

How long has it been since he switched with a double?

And even if he was a double, clones don't do what their original don't have the guts to do. Stabbing oneself in the neck with a kunai to leave a conversation is a decidedly...unusual action. _They're both mad._

"Otouto?" Izuna's lips turn down in an attempt to not burst out laughing. "I think that's a first for you, Niisan."

"Oh, be quiet, you." He ruffles Izuna's hair as he passes. "You're getting entirely too excited over this, awful gossipy _Zuzu._ "

Izuna chokes on his tea.

Madara smiles. It is a good day.

* * *

The Elders send notice that they want to speak with him directly. It has been several months since he visited. For the most part, it is Izuna who keeps up with the social functions of the clan, but that has to change now. He cannot be so complacent, can no longer be distant and difficult.

It has hurt his relationships now that he is awake enough to consider the consequences.

He is still clan head. He ought to act like one. _Father of the clan. How will I be father to so many when I can barely keep from drowning on my own thoughts?_

He doesn't mind it, doesn't mind that they want to speak to him, though he suspects he knows what they want to talk about.

They have yet to meet Kanae. He has very carefully not suggested that she visit them. Somewhere in the back of his mind is the fear that they will not like her half as much as he does, that they would think that she distracts him when it is the furthest from the truth.

She has helped him remember what is the most important.

He does not want strife between his wife and his advisors.

"Madara-sama? Are you going somewhere?" He is halfway through the door, but he turns back for her.

"I am going to speak with the Elders." Woe be it for him to lie to her.

She bounces forward and smooths his haori over his shoulders. "Are they mean?" She blinks up at him, green eyes, wide and clear. "Does visiting them bother you a great deal? Your shoulders are tense. Should I come with you?"

He takes a breath and lets himself relax under her hands. "No." He smiles and pulls her closer for a moment. "We are family. They want my well being." Will they approve or disapprove of his wife? Will he express his displeasure with them verbally if they are disapproving? He has no way of knowing. All he can do is go. "And there's no reason for you to visit them just yet."

There are three elders acknowledged by the clan for their service and sacrifice. He is the clan head by virtue of birth which means that all orders come from him, but the Elders rise to their positions through merit, age, and sacrifice.

In the absence of parents, the Elders are the ones who guide a young clan head through the decisions that must be made, the ones who care for the children of the clan when they have nowhere else to go. They keep the clan's records, the histories, the traditions, and council the clan head.

"Why do you ask? Are yours unpleasant?" He can't imagine that they would be. Clan Elders aren't supposed to be unpleasant old conservatives. They ought to have the best interests of the clan in mind. Sometimes that means being conservative, but more often than not, it means being progressive.

"No." She giggles. "We don't have clan elders."

"But your grandmother is alive still." Uzu has a higher elderly population than most clans in Fire Country. Certainly more than both the Senju and Uchiha clans combined. Surely some of them have to be recognized elders.

"Well, we have a council." She considers it. "We don't have clan elders because we have a king and a nation." She steps away to dust the shelves. "We're more Uzu than we are Uzumaki in my clan. There are other clans who hold specifically to their traditions, and we do still have traditions, but I suppose we don't need Elders to council our clan head in decisions that would benefit us because our clan watches over every other clan in Uzu."

It is a different way of looking at it. "You don't need someone to consider clan interests when they are the same as your nation's leadership."

"I suppose so, yes." She shrugs. "We used to, in the days of Ishiro, before there was such peace in Uzu that war doesn't touch the city, but no one's breached the borders of Uzu in nearly three hundred years."

A land without war. What would Konoha look like without war?

A year ago he would not have believed the man who told him that there could be such a place in the world for him. Back then, Konoha had felt like walking on broken glass. He would break it somehow. He doesn't feel that way so often any longer. Perhaps peace is something that he can enjoy after all.

"Are you concerned?" He asks, because her hands haven't stopped moving. She fidgets when she's nervous, going back over tasks that have already been completed. Her hands are never entirely still, but she doesn't fall to repetitive tasks unless she is concerned.

"Do you think they'd like me?" She stops arranging and rearranging the shelves. "They have not visited before."

He hasn't the faintest idea, but there is no reason that they _wouldn't_ like her. He tells her so, and she laughs, nervous and a little sad.

"I think I've always been afraid of not being enough." She turns around to look at him for a long moment. "It's a price to pay I suppose."

She is trying to tell him something. He's not sure he understands. "What aren't you enough for?"

She laughs a little and leans up to kiss him on the cheek. "Go, Madara-sama. You'll be late soon." She doesn't answer his question.

She thinks she's not enough for _something_ , but he doesn't have the faintest idea what _something_ could be. Ah well, she will tell him given time. She is Uzumaki Kanae, open and cheerful and bad at keep secrets.

She will tell him given time. He doesn't need to press. She tells him so much already.

* * *

The walk to the Elders' house is longer than he remembers, perhaps because he is taking his time and greeting every person he passes.

He's a little concerned about the surprise that they've been trying badly to hide and getting more concerned with each person. _Am I so unsociable and frightening?_ They love him, he knows this because they are effusive in their greetings when they recover, but they are no longer used to his friendliness.

Has he ever been friendly? He'd always been so busy, so driven, there'd been so much to do...

 _It is surprising that they have kept faith in me for so long. I do not think I could have done it. What must it have looked like from outside my head?_

"Madara-kun."

He blinks once. He is here. It must have been Elder Sayuri who greeted him, because she is sitting on the porch steps, her hands folded over her knee.

"Madara-kun." She says once more and rises slowly. "Your head is in the clouds again."

"Sayuri-baasan." He murmurs quietly as he offers her a hand up. "You sent word that you need to speak to me?"

"Yes." She pins him with a fierce look. "You have neglected to introduce us to your wife, despite introducing her to nearly everyone else in this family."

Oh, he knew they were going to talk about this.

He continues to move forward. Maybe one of the other elders would come to his aid-

"Do not think you can run away from your responsibilities, Madara-kun." It is Elder Asahi in the corner by the window with his long pipe in his hands. "What's this about your wife being a goddess?"

He winces. "She is quite mortal, Asahi-jiisan."

"Well, clearly she has to be different." Elder Yuko comments without looking up from her sewing. " _You_ are quite different than just half a year ago, Madara-kun."

"When did you lose your manners? Harumi-chan would be disappointed with us, and Tajima-kun would be appalled." Elder Sayuri leans against the doorway, and now he is well and truly boxed in. "To not introduce the lady of the clan to her own elders?"

"Couldn't I have sat down before I was pelted with questions and demands?" He mutters the question under his breath, but Elder Asahi hears him anyway, and laughs, barkingly.

"He's back. I told you this was a good decision, you two."

"Not everyone is like you, Asahi." Elder Yuko murmurs. "We cannot all have future seeing eyes."

It is a running joke among the clan members, that Elder Asahi's Mangekyo Sharingan sees the future. It is stupid, no sharingan before has ever seen the future, but still, if it does or if it doesn't, Elder Asahi isn't telling.

"We are interrogating Madara-kun, not each other." Elder Sayuri crosses her arms. "Why have we not met Uzumaki Kanae yet?"

"I was busy." The words sound weak, even to him. Busy does not cover his irrational fears, his hopes that they love her as much as they love him.

"Busy?" Elder Asahi snorts. "Boy, you don't know the meaning of the word these days. How long has it been since you've gone to the Tower?" So yes, he might have taken a week off.

"He must have been busy in different ways." Elder Yuko comments, deceptively mild. "In scandalous ways, if Izuna is to be believed."

His face turns a bruising shade of red. "Izuna is going to get himself kicked down a well." Does his otouto not have any sense? It is not as if...he _participates_ in scandalous activities all that often, and such a thing is not for _Izuna_ to run around telling other people.

Especially not the Elders. Especially when he doesn't really want to introduce Kanae to his eccentric somewhat grandparents.

Elder Sayuri has pity on him and forcibly pushes him into a chair in the center of the room. "Oh, give the poor boy some air, Yuko. He is undone by his own embarrassment." Well, that's one way to put it.

"It's his own fault, Sayuri, though it's nice to know that we won't be dead of old age before the clan gets an heir." Elder Asahi sighs a smoke ring in his direction. "Though, mind, he needs to worry about other affairs as well."

"Did you only ask me to come here so you could prod and poke at my marital affairs?" He is aware that crossing his arms and huffing makes him look like a petulant boy. He does it anyway, because he can afford the bare minimum of childishness here.

"No." Elder Yuko leans forward. "There's been whispers that Uzumaki Kanae isn't entirely...human."

 _Of all the things._ "Where did you get that impression?" Maybe Uzu is filled with the traces of youkai culture. Maybe Kanae has an ancestor who was a youkai and a hanyou brother, but that doesn't mean that she isn't _human._

"Perhaps." Elder Sayuri comments, the sardonic downturn of her lips visible as she brings out the tea set and sets it on the table. "It is because someone played the shamisen exceptionally well a few months ago and left here with wings that could block out the sun."

Anharaya-atawa no Kyoya. Of course. He had not thought to truly appear like a mortal man, and certainly didn't have the courtesy to leave using a door the last time he'd been here.

"Uzumaki-dono's bastard son." He does not mean to say this out loud. He says it anyway, because his tongue is a god awful traitor. "Is a prince of his father's people and ought to be treated with the deference offered to a brother of the clan head's wife."

Kanae loves her eldest brother deeply and well, and he will tolerate no disrespect of the other man in his district, much less among his clan.

"That he is not fully human does not mean that he is not a _person_ deserving of respect."

"Normally the brother-in-law of the clan head is also a clan member." Elder Yuko comments absently as she stares out the window. "Our traditions will not help us here."

Madara frowns and crosses his arms more tightly over his chest. "And who was it that practically pushed me out the village gates in the direction of Uzu?" It certainly wasn't him. It certainly wasn't Izuna. Hashirama might have helped, but he never would have gone if these three didn't put in their own advice.

Now they tell him that they don't like what they've gotten? Well too bad. He quite likes his wife, and has no desire to make any exchanges on that front.

"We are not trying to tell you that we disapprove." Elder Sayuri throws her hands into the air. "Madara-kun, we were well aware of the swirling rumors regarding Uzu before we sent you there."

Ah, he should not have been so quick to anger. It is a fault of his that he hasn't shaken. "Then why the questions?"

"Does it look like any of us have met a youkai before?" Elder Asahi knocks his pipe against the small tray beside him. "Can't we express an interest in the young woman when we had a hand in her living her to begin with?"

And he supposes that this is true. So he nods.

He has his pride, but he must also be able to admit when he is wrong.

"You'll bring her with you the next time you come then?" Elder Yuko asks. "And you won't wait until we ask to see you to come again?"

"I will." What does he fear? That they will not like her? Why wouldn't they like her? What is he afraid of truly? Even if they do not like her, she will go nowhere because of that. He can't say, only that he still fears _something._

"Can we ask how she is to you?" Yuko-baasan cups his cheek with a hand.

He smiles. "She has made me...happy." And he is happy. "I have lived so much of my life surrounded by fog. It is only now that I am beginning to see."

"What have you learned?" Elder Asahi folds his hands together over his knee.

Madara sighs. "I've neglected so much." His relationship with his family has suffered because of his heart. But he knows it now, knows it too much to let it happen again.

There's a clatter outside the door.

"Kanae-hime…" This sounds like Taiko. "Please don't go there, Madara-sama will…"

He strides across the room in three steps and pulls open the door. "I'll what, Taiko-kun?"

The boy hangs his head. "You'll be angry with me for showing Kanae-hime where the Elders lived, and the Elders will be angry too, and everyone will be upset with me."

Kanae is behind him on the steps a small, amused smile on her face. She sets a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I won't let them be angry with you. They can be angry with me first." She turns her gaze up to Madara and smiles. "You didn't say if you were staying for dinner here, Madara-sama." She chirps brightly. "And I wanted to extend an invitation to dinner for the Elders as well. I'm sure they've been so busy with you that they haven't started preparations yet."

The sun is sliding down beneath the horizon, and her hair is dark in the dusky light.

The corner of his mouth turns down. "I am sure that we don't need to trouble them with a walk to the house." He can't say exactly why he wants to avoid this meeting, only that he _does_ and everything else in the known universe is trying to force it to occur.

He doesn't like it.

"What's this about dinner?" Elder Sayuri asks from behind him. "Madara-kun, stop blocking the door and let me see my new granddaughter."

Well, at least if Sayuri-baasan is calling Kanae granddaughter the explosions won't be so tremendous.

He casts a sullen glare in Taiko's direction. If the boy didn't decide to show Kanae where the house was, he wouldn't be in this position right now.

He ignores the thought that Taiko can't possibly say no to Kanae, and further that anyone in the entire clan would have brought her here if she thought to ask, so it isn't even Taiko's fault that he was the unlucky one.

With a single heavy step, he moves aside.

* * *

 **A. N.** Madara suffers from unnamed fears, and Kanae takes the initiative while Izuna (Zuzu) gets a taste of his own medicine.

In other news, my summer is more full than I remember it being, but I have been writing a lot more in the recent days so updates should pick back up. Moonrise should update either tomorrow or the day after, and Bloodless should follow within the next week.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed. You all make my day.

~Tavina.


	14. These Fleeting Moments

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply."

— David Jones

* * *

The walk to dinner is nothing to be afraid of. That is, Kanae sets her hand in the crook of his elbow and chatters absently with the Elders as they walk along, so he's relieved from having to say anything of note. Which is, indeed, nothing to have feared so drastically.

"How many brothers did you say you had, Kanae-hime?" Elder Sayuri's taken over the course of the conversation.

Kanae blinks. "Six." _I thought it was-_ "Kyoya-niisama, Korui-nii, Masato-nii, Shiro-nii, Ruta-nii, and Izuna."

So that's what she meant by six.

His brother is also her brother. Something about that thought is so very warm.

But if his brother is her brother, then her brothers are also...his? The Twins, Ashiro and Aruta had claimed so, but he is hardly certain. What do her other brothers think of that particular venture? It is not as if they know him much at all, and Kanae is here because he signed a contract.

Perhaps they do not like him. He hasn't really the courage to think of it much further.

"And which one of them was it, that left here on wings?" Elder Asahi has taken his pipe with him, though he is no longer using it. _I didn't know that Asahi-jisan was so interested in youkai._

 _He said he wanted to meet Kyoya-san, didn't he?_

Kanae hides a smile behind her hand. "That would be my eldest brother, Kyoya-niisama." She glances up at the sky and smiles brightly. "He is, after all, a hanyou of great renown."

"But you are human." Elder Yuko cuts in.

"Quite human." Kanae agrees with a smile. "Just barely more than an eighth youkai blood disqualifies one from being anything other than human."

Madara huffs and wraps his arm around her waist. "Is this an interrogation of some sort?" She'd been doing well with answering their questions, but she doesn't _have_ to tell them where her blood came from and what exactly that makes her.

She is Uzumaki Kanae from Uzu, wife of Uchiha Madara. That's it. That's all that has to be known about her.

"So prickly." Elder Sayuri sighs, glancing over at Kanae with dark eyes. "See what we must put up with even when we invite him to spend time with us?"

Kanae's smile doesn't falter. "Madara-sama is not prickly." She has often teased him for being easily irritated, but it seems that such private thoughts of hers will not be made public before his somewhat grandparents. "Madara-sama is exactly how he should be, and I wouldn't like him as much if he was any different."

His heart purrs at that statement. _Exactly how I should be, am I?_

That is a blessed, blessed thing, even when he is unhappy.

"Hn." Elder Sayuri might sound nonchalant about it, but she's also smiling. "Exactly as he should be, is he?"

Somehow, this entire show is less fun when it's other people doing the talking.

Madara looks heavenward for a brief moment, and prays to all the Kami that Izuna will. Let. This. Dinner. End.

Preferably soon.

* * *

He should have known better than to think that the Kami could help him.

Dinner, as it were, drags on for hours and hours and hours upon hours without showing the least sign of ending.

Kanae brings out sake and dessert, and he didn't even know they still had sake in the house after his drunken debacle a few months ago, but apparently they do, and the elders are happy to stay.

For forever.

Oh alright, it is not actually forever. It isn't even a little bit like forever.

In fact, they might have only been here for two hours maximum. Izuna, kami forsake his soul, had sneaked off an hour ago, complaining of fatigue, and 'pretty please, have lots and lots of fun without me, Niisan'.

Madara redoubles his solemn vow to find the nearest well and kick his horrible, no good, awful, terrible and treacherous otouto down it.

He will just have to ignore the fact that the nearest well is not ten feet from the kitchen door the next time he actually sees Izuna.

It only feels like forever because they've started telling Kanae stories about his childhood, involving that one incident with a wet cat and the last eight sets of his father's clothing.

In his defense, he had only been five years old at the time, and his contract with the cats had been recent.

Still, it makes Kanae giggle. "I knew it!" She leans back against him, her head on his shoulder as she plays with his hair. "Madara-sama is a cat!" He doesn't think that she's drunk. She's not slurring her words or complaining of a headache, but it is very likely that she is somewhat tipsy.

At least just a little.

Perhaps she's a happy drunk.

"That he is." Elder Yuko agrees with a happy sigh. "Our Madara-kun is as prickly as a bedraggled kitten."

It is something in the sake, Madara's half sure of it. The Elders are not nearly so pleasant to _him._ Never. But they have been nothing but pleasant to _Kanae._ He would feel affronted if Kanae hadn't already demonstrated the ability to bend everyone in his clan around her little finger with nothing more than a small smile and the word please. He's the worst of them. There are so many things he cannot refuse her.

"Why do you call him Madara-sama, Kanae-chan?" Elder Asahi's lit his pipe again, and the smoke fills the small dining room. "Surely he hasn't asked you to be so formal with him, has he?" The older man glances at him sharply, as if telling him that having the audacity to ask his young wife to refer to him with the -sama suffix is a crime.

Madara feels very much personally attacked. He almost opens his mouth to clear up the issue, but Kanae beats him to it, still speaking in that soft lazy way she's been doing all night.

"No, no, of course not." She hides a smile behind one of her wide sleeves. "It is only his due. Madara-sama has asked me many times to simply refer to him by name." She pushes herself away from his shoulder and props her head up on one hand. "But I think we should try not to nettle him so much more tonight, yes?"

Curse him. He wants to kiss her smile off her face again.

"I don't think his heart will take much more of it." She observes with false innocence. Curse her. She knows exactly what his heart can and cannot take. "Why don't I tell you about the time when I nearly upended a tureen of seaweed soup over the heads of my twin brothers?"

At the moment, his _heart_ wants the Elders to leave so that he may dump her into the bathtub with something like a warcry on his lips.

Perhaps then she'll learn not to nettle him in public. She never does seem to learn.

"Oho?" Elder Sayuri leans forward. "That sounds like a story for the ages. What could make you behave so rashly, Kanae-chan?"

"Ah." She leans back in her chair and twirls her chopsticks around her fingers. "Well, you see, I was about twelve at the time, and the youkai king, Habiki-san, had taken me dancing the night before…" What follows is a story about family dinner, a near miss for the Twins and Kyoya-san vowing to have _words_ with Habiki.

He didn't know that she thought Habiki was pretty before. That unsettles him just a little bit.

Kanae's story is the last they tell that night, and when it ends, the Elders rise to go.

"We've intruded long enough on Madara-kun's patience and your hospitality, Kanae-chan." Elder Sayuri mentions as she leans in to kiss Kanae on the cheek.

"It was a beautiful night. Thank you." Elder Yuko does the same.

"Remember the clan is always interested in heirs." Elder Asahi's eyes are alight with a mischief that Madara hasn't seen in years.

Kanae doesn't so much as blush. "I've always wanted a large family, thank you." She drips honey with every word. She's not as drunk as he thought then. "But I'm sure however many heirs there are, it will be with the blessing of Inari." The Fox Goddess.

Inari's also well known as the goddess of grain.

Rice.

Ah. It had been rice that brought them together, both the excess and the lack of it.

Somehow, this pains his heart a little less than it did before.

But still, the ache is raw.

Her choice was not much of a choice at all. _What was she supposed to do, let her people starve to death?_

* * *

The guests leave, and they are once more alone. "I didn't know you disliked guests this much, Madara-sama." He lets down her hair, and she spins away to undo the knot of her obi by herself.

"I do not." He protests. "Tonight was fine."

She comes back to him. "Your hands are shaking."

And so they are. He shrugs. "It is what they will do, sometimes."

"What's wrong?" She asks him.

He shrugs again. "I did not know you think Habiki is pretty." Why does he hunger for her heart when he cannot give her his own? Why does he want her regard, her care, her words _? My favorite fearsome warrior._

 _Not like anyone else in the world._

Why does such a thing soothe the ache in his chest away? Is he truly so selfish to deny her her happiness, no matter who she cares for?

"I was twelve, and his youkai glamor was quite strong." She sits down beside him on the futon, though the distance between them might be growing wider. "You thought Niisama was pretty when you met him, didn't you? Didn't Habiki-san also look pretty in a half exotic way?"

"No." It isn't quite true. He'd thought Kyoya-san's face to be the most beautiful he's seen in a long time.

"Can you tell me why it hurts you?" She asks as she takes one of his trembling hands in her own. "That I thought Habiki-san was pretty when I was twelve, that is."

Why does it hurt him? Why do so many things about this whole situation hurt him?

"You could have married him." Perhaps that is it. She had been sad to leave the snake youkai behind. _Nothing gold can stay._

"I didn't want to marry him." Her retort surprises him a little.

"No?"

"No. Not even a little bit." She looks at him for a long moment. "For what it's worth, I've always thought that you are beautiful, Madara-sama." She kisses the back of his hand, and then cups his face in her hands. "Your dreams are beautiful." She tells him. "Your happiness is beautiful." Does she know that his heart sings with every word she says? "You are so very much more than pretty to look at, Madara-sama. Though," and here, her eyes laugh. "You are quite pretty to look at."

And something about that hollow space inside of him fills.

"How do you know me?" He asks her, asks her serious eyes, asks the softness of her features despite the sharpness of her angles and edges, asks her tender hands that both heal and hurt. "How do you know what I need to hear?"

How had he happened upon a wife like Uzumaki Kanae by accident?

She brushes his bangs away from his forehead. "Because you let me know you." Her existence in his life is hardly an accident.

He sighs and pulls her closer. "Invite guests over. You like guests." His thoughts are foolish sometimes.

What does it matter how exactly she'd come to be his wife? She is not unhappy here. She has not asked for anything that he cannot give.

And yes, her life has changed, but she is not _unhappy._ And as long as she is happy, he ought not feel guilty for anything. _Why must I worry over things that are yet to occur when I don't even know that it will happen?_

She pokes his cheek with a finger. "Ah, but you don't like guests." Her lips brush the bottom of his chin. "Especially not ones who can tell me about when you were a little boy."

He pulls away slightly so she can see his frown. "I was five."

She nods. "Mmmhmmm."

She does not seem to have understood him. "I had signed the contract with the cats the week before."

She pats his cheek. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Madara-sama." She looks away so he does not see the teasing smile on her face. He sees it anyway. "You can't deny it though, it was rather funny."

Perhaps, now on looking back, his father's reaction had been rather funny. For someone so stern to be so undone...he smiles despite himself. "I was such a difficult child for him." He runs an absent hand through Kanae's hair. "I was his eldest son, and he loved me dearly, but it was not an easy life." They'd both been too set in their ways, too stubborn for their own good.

It had caused plenty of strife between them even before the incident with Hashirama at the Naka river, but he had always known that his father loved all of his sons dearly, Madara most of all.

His father had died at the hands of Senju Butsuma. He had avenged that debt, the little good it did for his peace of mind or his father's life.

It had not calmed the storm in his heart or brought Uchiha Tajima back to lead the clan. It had only made his rage and confusion all the more raw.

But here and now, it is like calm summer seas.

"It is hard to imagine that you were as mischievous as the Twins." Kanae murmurs, her breath fanning out over the base of his neck. "They are responsible for exactly half of all of Chichi's gray hair."

"I was hotheaded, headstrong, and you would have had a better time herding cats than giving me orders." Not all of the past is painful to look at. There had often been times that he'd been happy, now that he looks back into the depths of his childhood.

It's just that happiness has been in short supply in the past decade or so.

"I think," Kanae says slowly. "I would have liked very much to meet you."

"I was reportedly quite scary by the time you were twelve." Yes, they had started calling him a demon in the year before he killed Senju Butsuma in the Red Plains the year he turned nineteen.

"Were you?" She sounds quite amused by this.

He flops back onto the bed and hides his face underneath a pillow. "Yes."

She flops down beside him, her hair spilling over his chest. "Fearsome warrior." She teases. "All of your enemies cowered before you in terror."

Perhaps he doesn't look scary when he is actively hiding from the candlelight with a pillow over his head. "Quite." He nods in a self satisfied way. "Though you shouldn't cower."

"I will remember." She says while piling another pillow on his head. "Though I do hope that for your sake, your future son will not be as prone to misbehaving as the Twins."

He pulls both the pillows off of his head and stares up at her sleepily. "How close is this future that we speak of?"

She considers it. "Far yet."

He nods. "Mmm." The thought of family is no longer like a raw wound.

Perhaps he dares to hope for a future bathed in light and water and not in the light of flames and blood.

* * *

Ashiro and Aruta are sitting at his breakfast table the next morning. "Neesan kicked us out of her house." They slump over the table, their arms outstretched before them in various stages of dismay. "Because we were disturbing the _baby._ "

"Since when was a baby worth more than her baby brothers?" Ashiro wonders aloud. "Since when?"

"Perhaps because the child is hers?" Madara queries. "And perhaps because you two will run anyone ragged given the slightest chance?"

"Aww," Aruta blows a lock of hair out of his face. "You're no fun, Otouto."

Kanae comes in from the garden at that moment, and the Twins are out of their seats and spinning her around in an instant. "Shiko-chan!" They chirp in unison. "We found your information for you!"

She sets the basket of apples on the table when she has a spare moment. "You found my information for me?"

"Uh-huh!" Aruta laughs and pats her on the head. "We found a whole bunch of stuff."

Ashiro drops a sealed scroll into her waiting hands, and suddenly the jovial atmosphere is gone. "Kawaki Saemon is angry, little sister."

Kanae presses her lips together. "Well, it's not like he was going to be jumping for joy."

"But at least now he knows not to mess around in the Viper's lair." Aruta ruffles her hair. "We're going to have fun at Zuzu's! Bye bye, Shiko-chan, Otouto!"

Kanae turns back to him, a bemused expression on her face. "Well, I suppose I should figure out what sort of present this is."

Madara takes a sip of his tea. "Is everything roundabout with them?" He still can't quite believe them exactly.

He knows they have hidden depths. It's just trying to plumb those same depths that's the hard part.

"Sometimes it's not." Kanae shrugs and comes to sit next to him at the table. "But then I would be concerned since that would mean things are progressing towards doomsday." She breaks the wax seal on the scroll with a quick incision with a kitchen knife and unrolls the cloth with a flick of her wrist.

There's a seal painted on the silk, a thousand little squiggling signs reading 'storage.'

Kanae sighs. "They didn't." She doesn't sound certain though.

Madara leans forward. "What did they give you?"

She doesn't answer him, but a quick burst of chakra later, the sharp scent of blood hits his nose.

There's a severed head staining the silk scroll on his kitchen table.

A head of gray hair, a long gray beard, eyes rolled back, neck severed between the second and third vertebrae in the neck...her brothers had gifted her with a severed head.

Another quick burst of chakra later, Kanae expertly rolls the scroll back up. "Well, I suppose that's one way to never worry about Kawaki-san ever again." She looks not the least bit perturbed.

Madara supposes that he should have come to expect it by now. Of course, the Twins would gift their little sister with a severed head without a single care in the world.

Despite being the most peaceful village in existence, Uzu citizens don't seem to have the slightest compunctions about getting rid of people who threaten them, even just in anger.

He would like to spar with the Twins sometime.

Perhaps they'd be more willing to oblige him than Kyoya.

* * *

"Spar with us, Otouto?" Ashiro swishes his foot around in the lake water. "Well, I suppose we'd be alright at it." Madara's sitting next to him on the pier when he broaches the subject.

"It's just, you know…" Aruta folds his arms behind his head and stares up at the sky from his floating position on the lake. "We don't really do a lot of confrontational fighting."

Ashiro picks up the thread of conversation. "Assassins are trained to hit hard and hit once."

"And so are harpooners." Ah, that's what it was.

Kanae said her brothers were whalers once upon a time. He supposes that the long bladed weapons they kept on their belts are harpoons.

"And yet, I doubt you two are unworthy opponents." He could use an opponent besides Hashirama. It would be unlike them to be modest, but misdirection is entirely likely.

He will have to be on his guard.

"Ah, we'll give it a go." Aruta props himself up on one shoulder, shirt dripping. "Can you be persuaded to step out onto the water?"

"Do I look like I have a death wish?" He has no wish to drown or crawl out of the lake like a wet cat, thank you very much.

Ashiro laughs. "Don't be silly, ugly brother of mine, you will have to help our little brother onto the water." And saying so, he forms a hand sign.

The water around Madara's ankles tighten into ropes attempting to drag him in.

A quick Katon jutsu later, he leaps free.

That was by no means a honorable start to a sparring match.

He has no more time to think on it. They are upon him.

His wakizashi is in his hand as he fends off their quick jabs.

It seems that their style is to poke their enemies full of holes.

His own involves beating people to a pulp when not burning them alive.

He flips himself away, onto the shore away from the water they command so easily, retreating deeper into the forest until he can find an opening.

"Come." He grins. "Let's dance."

He hasn't had this much fun in ages.

The Twins throw their heads back and laugh as one. "Oh, this is fun!"

The sharp clash of metal rings out across the clearing.

The Twins are next to perfect covers for each other, seemingly needing no words to move into the spaces where the other had occupied a moment before.

They are smoke and shadows, a collection of feints and jabs.

But his eyes bleed red, and it is far easier to read their moments.

Their defense is not without flaws.

They truly are not frontline fighters.

This fight ends something like this: the edge of his blade pressed to Ashiro's throat and the sharp tip of Aruta's harpoon pressed to the base of his neck.

"I think we should stop this, Otouto." Ashiro sighs. "Before something untoward happens, and we'd have to explain to Shiko-chan why everyone is hurt."

He is not among enemies.

He slides his sword back into its sheath.

The weight of the harpoon disappears an instant later. "You really are something else, Otouto!" Aruta slings an arm over his shoulder. "We would have been dead in ten minutes flat if we were only one person!"

Madara huffs in his direction. "How kind of you to notice that you are not, in fact, one person." The problem with using one blade is that you can only threaten one person at a time with it.

Ah well, there is always Katon Jutsu to soothe his wounded pride.

They laugh obnoxiously like squawking gulls. "We forget sometimes!"

* * *

The Inuzuka do make their way into Konoha at the end of October. Hashirama insists on throwing them a party, because that is what Hashirama does.

"Must it be a banquet for the entire village, Niisan?" Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. "We will already be low on supplies for the winter without a large party." For some reason, Tobirama has been…

Less bothersome in the most recent two months, at least to him.

More civil. The thought is concerning enough that Madara might bring it up sooner or later.

"But we must welcome them _somehow_." Hashirama grins. "Besides, having a party right after the harvest season is the perfect way to ensure that everyone's spirits remain high when we head into the winter."

"Did your last attempt to hold a party teach you nothing?" Madara himself, finds himself _agreeing_ with Tobirama more often than not these days. That would concern him if it weren't for the fact that he can acknowledge that Tobirama is a sane human being sometimes.

That Senju Tobirama is also a certifiable genius has little to do with it.

They don't get along, no, but they also don't truly disagree on many fundamental issues. Not as much as he and Hashirama disagree at any rate.

"You nearly died at your last party, just making certain you remember that."

Hashirama looks properly chastised. "Oh alright, no feast, but that means that you two have to be civil to each other while the Inuzuka enter the village."

Perhaps that's what Hashirama wanted all along. He does look rather tired and unsuited to parties these days.

"Fine!" Tobirama throws up his hands and stomps out. "I'd nearly given up on talking sense into you."

And then it is just Madara and Hashirama sitting together in the office of the Tower.

"He has gotten more prickly." Madara observes.

Perhaps there is trouble in Hashirama's household. He is unaware as to what it is, given that he hardly visits Hashirama's household any longer.

There are plenty of clan members to visit and talk to in his next to nonexistent free time.

"He thinks I should just stay at home and leave other people to deal with issues right now." Hashirama slumps forward until his forehead is touching his desk. "But he doesn't understand, I can't just dump everything on someone else, even though I would like to be home."

"Your wife is about to give birth to your first child, and the first thing you think of is whether or not you can ask someone else to do your paperwork?" Madara raises an eyebrow at him. _Kami. Hashirama's gotten more stupid in the intervening months._ "Ask your beloved brother to do your work and just go home and hover or something."

"But, Mada! That would make Mito-chan unhappy!" Hashirama sniffs. "I don't want to make her unhappy."

"I think," Madara pauses for a long moment. _Why am I giving Hashirama relationship advice again? I barely know what a relationship is._ "That according to Tobirama, Uzumaki Mito is already unhappy with you precisely because you are trying not to hover."

Hashirama sobs like a strangled cat into his paperwork. "I knew it."

Madara flicks an inkwell at him. "Then go home, you idiot." He doesn't know exactly when his life's taken this turn — who said he could give Hashirama life advice? Why doesn't it bother him to sit here telling Hashirama to go home to his wife? — but it's not as if he's not adaptable.

If this is what he must do after skipping out on paperwork for weeks at a time in the recent months, then it's what he'll do.

 _I must remember to send Kanae a message that I'll be home late._

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Hashirama peels himself off of the desk. "You hate paperwork."

Madara has considered burning all the piles when Hashirama's back is turned, but he's hardly going to tell his best friend that. "Just send your prickly brother back here, and I'll thank my lucky stars." He turns away with a huff. "Go home, Hashirama. You've been useless all day."

The corners of Hashirama's mouth tilt down into a wry grimace. "Thank you, Mada." And then Hashirama's out the door.

Madara bits his thumb with a sigh. "Hina?"

Hina pops into existence onto a chair, her feet tucked under her primly. "Yes?"

"Will you tell Kanae that I'm going to be late for dinner, so she and Izuna don't have to wait for me?" _This is all my fault. I skipped out on work earlier and now it's all back here to haunt me._

Hina blinks slowly. "Why?"

Madara gestures towards the mountains of paper on all three of the desks. "Too much to read." His head thunks against his desk. "I'm an idiot for telling Hashirama to go home." He grouses to himself. "Now I have to read it all."

Hina pats his head with a paw. "There, there, Madara. It'll be alright, you'll see."

Madara raises his head to glare balefully at her. _Does everyone in my life want to see me flail and then tease me for it?_ "Just deliver your message."

"Oh, alright." Hina saunters off, her tail in the air. "At least, Kanae will feed me fish, unlike you."

Madara judges the number of sheets of paper in the nearest stack to be somewhere between a hundred and a thousand and sighs. _I might not make it home at all._

He pulls the top sheet off and raises the stamp in his left hand. _Might as well begin then._

* * *

 **A.N.** In which Madara is poked and prodded endlessly by all the people in his life, Kanae receives a rather...unusual present, and Hashirama learns to go home.

And here we have it, the next chapter of Sunfall. (I'm working through the next chapter of Bloodless. At the moment, I'm like five scenes in.)

I'm still participating in NejiTen Month 2018, so hopefully you guys will see more content on that soon.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed! You guys make my day.

~Tavina


	15. Heartache Red

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"Something is changing.

And it might be the seasons.

And it might be me."

— Alison Malee

* * *

After the space of half an hour, he's beginning to believe that Hashirama has forgotten about this and Tobirama is therefore never going to show up at the office.

Which means that all of this paper is his dominion now.

He's half certain that if he knew quite how much paperwork he would have to deal with in a state of peacetime, then he would have at least thought twice before celebrating.

As it is, there is enough paper in this small room to bury him and bury him it will.

Which means that he really should try to decrease the avalanche through work.

He glances through yet another page of grain records and wonders exactly how much it takes to feed a growing city when they don't even know how many people live in this city.

 _This organization is atrocious._ Why haven't they conducted a census yet?

Oh right, because the Hyuga object to other clans knowing about their fighting force and civilian branch populations.

He's about half resigned to it, just because Hashirama has vision, but he's never truly had anything remotely close to organization or an ability to pay attention to the details, and honestly since the position of Hokage has not been determined yet and won't be until they make it through this winter, there really isn't anyone who can make the Hyuga give up their numbers.

He's half resigned.

He's the one who sent Hashirama home anyway. He reaps what he sows honestly.

 _I never told Hashirama that he meant so much to me before he went to Uzu._

 _Why didn't I tell him?_

His eyes come to a stop. It seems so simple really. He could have just told Hashirama that there was someone who loved him far closer to home, but something had stopped him.

The words on the page before him blurs.

He's not crying, no. He can safely say that it's not that.

Thinking about this no longer brings him pain.

In fact, he's certain that he never would have thought of this voluntarily before. _Before what?_ A part of his mind asks.

 _Before Kanae._ It is her arrival that has changed him.

There would have been a storm inside him, there would have been. Past tense.

He considers the matter further.

Why is it past tense?

When had he started putting this behind him? And is it truly behind him, or is it something that he's been trying to tell himself?

For a long time now, thoughts of Hashirama have always been something between elation, guilt, and pain.

 _Where is my heart now?_

He examines it carefully. Izuna's place is unchanged. The dead are still dear to him. And he still loves Hashirama, at least he thinks he does. _I wish for his happiness._

And going home to Uzumaki Mito would make him happy, so that's what he had encouraged.

 _Isn't that love?_

That is still love, but different. Shifted somehow.

Different.

But different _how precisely_ he does not discover because Tobirama finally arrives, and he has no time for more contemplation about how precisely he's rearranged his relationships.

"It took you long enough." He mutters while the other man takes a seat.

"Hashirama-nii was _distracted._ " Tobirama hisses at him. "As such, he did not inform me that you requested my presence, Uchiha, and I never would have thought of it because you indiscriminately hate—"

"I indiscriminately hate?" He doesn't want to start an argument with Tobirama particularly, if only because it would lower their already suffering productivity, but as far as he is aware, _he_ is not the one with an immense and petty grudge over everything other.

Granted, he doesn't like most Senju, and he really can't be too bothered to care about the Hyuga that have moved in next door, or any of the other clans beyond passing curiosity or annoyance most of the time, but that does not mean that he _hates._

"As I am aware, I believe a hatred for everything Uchiha generally comes from you, Senju Tobirama."

"Says the man with his brother's eyes in his skull."

He's beyond the point where such petty words destroy his ability to form a coherent argument. "They were a gift if you must know." He comments and leaves it at that. "And regardless of my relationship with Izuna, I do not see how my eyes relate to indiscriminate hatred."

Eyes have always been sacred to the Uchiha.

"The sharingan is born of hatred." Tobirama roughly stabs his brush at a sheet of paper. "How is anyone supposed to trust your clan when your kekkei genkai manifests literally out of hatred?"

"Is that really what you think?" His eyes have bled red again, he knows it. The whole world is sharper for it, every image burned into his memory. He rises from his chair and comes around to meet Tobirama's eyes.

The set of his mouth is mulish. No one can call Senju Tobirama a coward. He glares defiantly, red eyes meeting red.

Ah well, he does not expect Senju Tobirama to really understand.

It is not hatred that awakens the Sharingan. Every Uchiha child knows that.

And though it is generally remarked upon as a rite of passage to awaken these eyes, he rather imagines that it is not something that any parent is remotely _pleased_ about. That sort of loss, the pain of it, the love. Love is the curse of the Uchiha as much as it is the blessing.

It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.

"The Sharingan is tied to the heart, unlike the Hyuga eyes." He sets a hand on the desk between them. Unlike the Byakugan, not every Uchiha child will awaken the Sharingan.

Those that awaken the Mangekyo are even fewer.

"These eyes are born from love and loss."

He had been very young then, perhaps too young, although he had not thought it at the time.

He had been fighting on the battlefront from age eight after all.

He had only two tomoe when he had skipped the third altogether for the Mangekyo.

"But that loss breeds hatred for the world and madness." Perhaps to an outsider it would seem so. Perhaps.

"I was ten when I saw a Senju warrior cut my mother down in our camp." And wonders of wonders, Tobirama does look horrified. Perhaps the man is not an ice block. "She wasn't a warrior, _Senju._ The fiercest weapon she'd wielded all her life was a frying pan." These words are like dredging up old scars he long thought healed. Uchiha Harumi had a sharp tongue and a kind heart, laughing brown eyes which in the full light of the sun looked shot through with gold. No one had taught her to kill. "But war doesn't care for that does it? It doesn't care how many bodies it leaves in its wake."

It had been his mother who had stood between him and certain death that day. He was her child, and even if he had blood on his hands already, and she'd never killed anyone in her life, it was Uchiha Harumi who died.

His eyes had wept red for days after.

"Do not pretend that you've never thought of and enacted vengeance."

The brothers Hashirama had lost, they had also been Tobirama's brothers.

As much as he likes to believe that Senju Tobirama is a block of ice, it might not have been the nature he was born with.

His Mangekyo had formed when he lost his mother.

Izuna, Izuna had been there to see the death of their father years later.

In some small and sad way, he's glad that Izuna never has to bear the guilt of knowing that their mother had died for him.

He turns to go. He's embarrassed himself utterly by digging up old memories today.

Why had he told Senju Tobirama of all people, that he'd seen his own mother die and been helpless to stop it? Offering the Senju Bastard any form of ammunition is just asking for more pain and self loathing.

He's almost to the door when the Senju finally says something.

"I won't." It isn't an insult. Senju Tobirama is not insulting him. "I won't pretend that I've never thought about vengeance."

Well, isn't the Senju in a weird mood today.

He almost looks abashed.

Madara's never seen him that way before.

Tobirama looks away at a blank patch of wooden wall. "I sit across from you and see my father's murderer as well as my brother's best friend every day. Of course, I've thought of slitting your throat."

"Your father murdered mine." Izuna wouldn't lie about that. Not to mention, the other surviving clansmen told the same story.

Senju Butsuma had caught them with a larger force in an ambush, and Uchiha Tajima had died for that miscalculation.

If that winter night never occurred, he is half certain that his eyes would have wept for that loss as much as his heart did.

"How do we account all the debts between our clans? Every one is written in blood. You did a damn good job trying to kill me."

It had been Hashirama and the Senju healers who had saved his life.

He had woken up to a world in an uneasy ceasefire waiting for his hand to sign a peace treaty. And in many ways, he had been too tired and too cornered to consider continuing to fight.

If he had been tired of fighting, there was an entire clan behind him too tired to continue fighting and losing parts of their hearts.

"If Hashirama-nii is to be believed," the corner of Tobirama's mouth quirks down. "It's to be resolved by never fighting again and calling each other friends."

Madara privately doubts this.

Perhaps there will never be fighting between the Uchiha and the Senju again, but he would probably cut off his own tongue before calling Senju Tobirama _friend._

"I'd rather commit seppuku."

"I thought as much." Tobirama picks up another piece of paper and stares at it. "You hate me."

"You put a sword through me." Madara again turns to go. "I think I'm allowed to want your head on a platter for it."

He doesn't really, not really.

It would break Hashirama to see his last brother die at the hands of his best friend.

And he wants Hashirama to be happy, which means that at least on his end, Tobirama has to remain unharmed as much as possible.

Again, the Senju doesn't let him leave.

"If it's any comfort to you, I wasn't there when Kawarama died," it takes him a moment to recall that Kawarama is the name of Hashirama's youngest brother. "But I was close enough to feel it." Tobirama meets his eyes evenly. "I was also ten." There's such hollow grief there.

Such guilt.

It's his own old demons in the Senju's eyes.

And he's well aware that sleeping with those ghosts are enough to eat a man alive from the inside out.

Did Hashirama even know this, that Tobirama holds himself responsible for his brother's death?

He's not used to this amount of humanity from Senju Tobirama.

"I don't take any pleasure from other people's suffering." He turns away. "So no, I find no comfort from your brother's death."

Tobirama draws in a ragged breath. "You really are different."

Different?

No, he merely has less control of his tongue or the memories that plague him now.

"Says the man who is exactly the same as he was two years ago."

He needs to leave.

He's never been good at comfort one, and two, he's seen enough of Tobirama's humanity today. He doesn't want to give up on his long cherished idea that Senju Tobirama is a changeling demon who is related to Hashirama only just barely.

It's easier to dislike what is less human.

* * *

He wanders through the marketplace almost aimlessly.

The more he tries to suppress the memories, the more they rise to the surface.

His mother, laughing at the mess he'd made with Hina that day with the laundry and distracting his father's rage.

His mother, weeping over Inari's grave, over Otaro, over a son not yet named before the funeral service.

His mother, dancing as she did every year during Bon, two red ribbons trailing from her hands.

His mother, bleeding out that winter night not two feet from where he lay as still as a corpse.

It is sad that his clearest memory of his mother is the night she died.

"Uchiha-sama."

He blinks. His feet have paused in front of an older street vendor with graying hair.

The old man grins at him, a gap in his smile from at least a few missing teeth.

Bamboo utensils line the table between them.

"Tenshu-san." He does not know this old man's name, so the general term to storekeeper will have to do.

"Honda Eikichi, Uchiha-sama." A civilian then, not tied to a shinobi clan. Hashirama had argued that civilians were an essential part of the village structure one night, and he'd been too tired to argue and just conceded the point.

He hasn't the faintest clue why this particular street vendor would smile so widely at him.

"Is Kanae-hime well?"

Kanae.

"She was humming when I left this morning." He almost smiles. "Something about seaweed and pearl earrings."

Honda-san nods, still smiling. "That does sound like her."

"She comes here often then?" Now that he thinks about it, these spoons do seem familiar. He picks one up. "She must." He muses half to himself. "I swear I've seen this design before."

Yes, the soup spoons could be cast from the same mold as this one.

"You've never asked her where she goes?"

He blinks. "What would be the purpose?" He really hasn't any particular need to know where his spoons come from, nor does it matter much what Kanae decides to spend money on.

She is never wasteful, and he quite likes most of the little carvings and various odds and ends that he's started to find on his desk.

There's a flower vase there now with a rotation of mostly red and some bright yellow.

He had paused for a moment one night to chuckle over the thought that perhaps she has no idea that red and yellow are _not_ complementary colors and certainly not suitable for a single arrangement.

Kanae puts whatever flowers pleases her at the moment into his vase without regard for whether or not they are supposed to be put together.

Orange lilies and sunflowers had been the last arrangement. He had looked up yesterday night to find vengeance and respect gracing his vase and nearly burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. He doubts she really means that she will respectfully take her revenge on him.

Still, he had contained himself, because she'd been in the room.

"No, of course not." Honda-san agrees after a beat of silence. "No purpose of course, Uchiha-sama."

All told, this has been a really strange conversation.

He's still thinking about it when he passes the courtyard door later that evening.

There'd been more than one vendor who had asked him about Kanae the afternoon that he'd been wandering the market.

And some had seemed nervous to speak to him, the girl at the flower stand exceedingly so, but they had asked after Kanae, and in a roundabout way, himself, despite that.

He is not quite certain why his face hadn't scared them off.

Even on his better days, and today is not one of his better days, Kanae had prodded his cheek with a finger and laughingly told him that he has 'a resting grumpy face.'

This new solicitation is...not unwelcome.

Merely unexpected.

He finds Kanae dancing with the broom as she sweeps the outer walkway, still humming a vaguely familiar ditty.

"Perhaps you would like a better partner?" He asks. "I don't think your current one suits."

"Madara-sama!" Her smile lights up her eyes, and the late afternoon glow of the sun sets her hair aflame. "Are you volunteering yourself to be my dance partner?"

His heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest.

He offers her his hand. "I am."

He does not like to dance, but she does, and there is no one here to see if he stumbles.

She takes his hand. "I thought I wouldn't see you until late." They spin out across the courtyard in a long, slow spiral. "I'm happy that you're back so early. It's a nice surprise."

She looks so happy.

So vibrantly, vibrantly alive.

And in that frozen moment, he _wants._

She squeaks as he sweeps her into his arms, his chin coming to a rest on her shoulder. "Madara-sama?"

"Have I told you that your hair isn't headache red?" Ah, this feeling in his chest tastes like heartache, but so much sweeter than the last time he had felt it.

He is home, so perfectly so.

And he is different now. Life is different now.

 _What would I have become if I never met you?_

He doesn't know.

But he is merely Uchiha Madara, husband of Uzumaki Kanae, who when she wants to flatter his heart calls herself Uchiha Kanae, and at the moment he is home.

"What sort of red is it, if it isn't headache red?" She asks him, her voice soft. Her hands rest on his shoulder blades.

He pulls back a bit and considers it, considers the sharp cut of her cheekbones and the softness of her lips, considers the joy in her eyes and her presence in his heart. "Heartache red." He says softly as he pulls her back in. "The color of my heart."

He married a woman with hair red like passion and eyes like new beginnings.

They stay there for a long moment as the sun sets, throwing up long shadows in the courtyard.

"Madara?" She whispers. "Did something happen?"

He had thought of his mother, has thought of loss, but no, that is not what he means by this. "No." He says after he considers it. "Nothing's happened." He sighs. "Except I was nearly killed by a stack of paper."

She giggles, a hand over her mouth. "Really? My fearsome warrior," she kisses his pulse lightly. "Defeated by paper."

"I was nearly killed." He protests. "I was not defeated by paper."

"Mmmhmm." She pulls him into the house, bare feet pattering over the floorboards. "You'll be glad to know that I bought more pastries."

Happiness suits her.

Oh, it suits her.

All this thread that holds his heart together, it belongs to her.

* * *

A week later, the Inuzuka move into Konoha proper, a wild mountain clan of a few hundred, with their dogs at their sides.

At their head is a woman with wild hair and a smile like a blade. "Inuzuka Tsuruko." She thrusts a hand forward. "Queen of the pack."

Tobirama had spoken to someone else about the Inuzuka Clan moving to Konoha proper.

He hadn't met their clan head then, because this woman moves with the utter assurance of leadership.

There is a pause, a beat, and it's Kanae who takes her hand. "Uchiha Kanae. We're so happy you've arrived."

Some of the tension bleeds out of the air.

Mito steps forward next. "We hope your trip was safe."

Inuzuka Tsuruko laughs barkingly. "Safe enough." Her grin is more friendly than feral now. "You have gathered up most of the clans in Fire Country here."

The Inuzuka move forward, past the gates and into Konoha proper.

Hashirama laughs. "Haha, we've tried to promote moving here." He links arms with Mito. "Sometimes we didn't succeed."

"You've done a good job." A man comments from Tsuruko's side. He's carrying a child on a back sling. "It's certainly a larger settlement of shinobi than we've seen before."

They are courteous, more so than he suspected they would be.

For all that they are a mountain clan, their habits are not much different than his own.

At least, they are not differences that cannot be reconciled.

The Inuzuka did not generally deal in shinobi wars, though they attacked swiftly should there be intruders on Mount Hoyoken.

The procession continues on, as Hashirama chatters on and on about the availability of land, and the current situation with housing and any particulars of the peace treaty he could think of.

Madara himself falls further behind as he considers his own words of months earlier.

 _The mangy curs have fleas._

Words spoken in anger, but still they shame him now anyway.

There are more children and elderly folk in this group than in his own clan. What right had he to judge?

The Inuzuka have decided to move here together instead of moving in small groups like other more distrusting clans.

For a clan that has long isolated themselves in their mountain territory, this show of trust is absolutely astounding.

If the Uchiha and Senju had set up an ambush here, they might be entirely annihilated, as the adults fall back to defend the children and older members of the clan.

All or nothing.

They placed their safety here in the hands of others and trusted that Konoha means them no ill will.

Up a few feet ahead of him, a little boy stumbles.

He reaches out without even thinking about it, scooping the boy up in his arms.

The small body immediately stiffens.

Every dog in his vicinity growls in unison.

The two Inuzuka's heads snap back instantly. "Shin!"

Ah, he did not mean to cause such worry.

Madara moves forward, the boy still in his arms. "He stumbled." He bends and sets the child down. "Your son?"

The man is Inuzuka Tsuruko's husband then, and this is their child.

The boy limps forward, and for the first time, he notices that the child's right leg is a little shorter than his left.

"Yes." The man smiles, a hand in his son's hair. "Our Shin."

He offers the man his hand. "Uchiha Madara."

His name is not often associated with kindness, but it is the name he owns.

"Inuzuka Kaien." They clasp hands. "Thank Uchiha-san, Shin." Kaien waves an idle hand at his son as he throws an arm over Madara's shoulder. The familiarity is almost like Hashirama, but the intelligence in Inuzuka Kaien's eyes is of a different sort.

Shin turns to him, dark eyes wide. "Thank you for catching me, Uchiha-ojisan."

And so he continues with a small boy clinging to his hand, and the boy's father's arm slung lazily over his shoulders.

"Must admit." Kaien drawls slowly. "Your reputation says you would've sliced my arm off by now." The man's eyes are laughing. "You really haven't acted at all demonic."

So that name has preceded him even up the mountain.

No wonder Hashirama didn't send him up to treat with them.

"We are no longer at war." Is all he finds to say. "Peace changes all of us."

Kanae drops back to walk next to them. "How old is your son, Kaien-san?"

"Four this year." The Inuzuka man laughs boomingly. "How long has your sister been expecting?"

"Six months, nearly seven now." Kanae makes a cooing face at the baby on his back, who giggles. "And your younger child?"

"My daughter is currently ten months old." Even at ten months, the little girl wears the Inuzuka fangs proudly on her face, a splash of red on chubby cheeks.

Ten months.

That must be why Inuzuka Tsuruko did not meet with Tobirama. It must have been close to the time when she gave birth.

"And her name?" He asks absently as he finds that his mind falls back to a different sort of thought.

Would his daughter have her mother's eyes?

"Tsukiko." Moon child. A fitting name for a little girl born to a clan of wolves.

They take their leave soon after to give the Inuzuka space to settle into their district and make the short walk back to the house together.

Kanae's hand rests in the crook of his arm. "What are you thinking of, Madara-sama?"

He smiles. "A dream for the future."

* * *

It's Izuna he spends his time with later that night in the courtyard when the moon is high above.

He plays with a shogi piece in his hand as he thinks about his next move.

Izuna has improved, so he has to think carefully about his strategy now.

"The Inuzuka moved in on our other side then, Niisan?"

The district to their west has been empty for a while now. "Yes."

He finally decides on where to place his silver general in this mess of things and describes the place to Izuna who nods.

"What was your impression of them?" Izuna taps one of his own pieces on the table. "I heard that they are a large clan."

"A few hundred people." Madara replies. "Twice that, if you count their dogs. Many non-combatants, they all moved here at once. They are lead by a woman named Tsuruko, and her husband Kaien. They have two children, a son and a daughter."

"They mean to come here in this good faith then." Izuna decides on a move. "Or they would have moved here in clusters like the Hyuga, most expendable members first."

"It seems so." Madara takes a sip of his tea and takes in his options.

Izuna has him boxed in.

"I concede this match as your victory, otouto."

Izuna smiles, a hint of smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're out of practice, Niisan."

Madara throws a pawn at him. "And I ought to kick you down a well."

"No!" Izuna cries in mock horror. "Niisan! How could you say such a thing to your little brother?" He does not say only little brother.

He is not Uchiha Madara's only little brother.

"Izuna?" He asks after a brief moment of quiet. "Do you remember our mother?"

He had been so young with their mother died. Eight years old.

It has been nearly fifteen years.

Why is this ache still so raw?

"I do." Izuna smiles, a little bitter around the edges. "She would dance with red ribbons every Bon."

"She would forbid Father from chasing us after we pulled yet another trick on him."

"She would do her hair early in the mornings." Izuna starts to put the shogi board away.

"She would?"

"Yes, she would." Izuna huffs at him in amusement. "You wouldn't know though, because you always slept until noon when you could get away with it."

He concedes that this is a fair point. "I never thought about it before is all." When he thinks of his mother, he only remembers her taking down her hair in the firelight at night.

He has no recollection of her putting it up in the morning, even though it had to have happened sometime.

"Niisan?" Izuna reaches across the walkway for him, a hand landing on his wrist. "The Elders mentioned something to me recently. I want to know if you'll hear of it."

"What did they talk to you about behind my back?" Oh, he doesn't mean it like this. He's well aware that Izuna is easier to talk to than himself.

Still, that they clearly mentioned something to Izuna and not to himself bothers him at least a little.

Izuna hits his arm and turns away. Sulking.

Twenty-two years old, and Uchiha Izuna still acts like a five year old.

"If you're going to be like this, maybe I won't tell you after all."

"You know you'll tell me eventually." He covers a chuckle with a hand and swallows it back though his shoulders shake with the effort of it. "So why not now, my dearest darlingest otouto?"

"Because you're a horrible grumpy, meanie, Niisan." Izuna turns his most innocent face at him. "And why should I tell horrible, grumpy, meanies anything?"

A chuckle escapes him before he can stop it. "You're not three years old, Zuzu."

Izuna sighs, serious once more. "You're right. I'm not." He runs a hand through his hair. "They wanted to know — without pressuring you. Don't you dare glare at me, Niisan. — if you thought about heirs."

He hasn't thought about — he's thought of children, thought of family, but not _heirs_. As far as he is aware, Izuna is still his heir, and he is fine with that.

"I've been married for less than ten months." He's surprised at how mild he sounds. "And we are at peace, so there's no hurry."

"They weren't asking for a child right this instant, Niisan." Izuna is annoyed, if the crease in his forehead is a good indicator. "They just want to know if you thought about it."

"What person doesn't think about it?" He glances over at his brother. "Haven't you thought about it?"

Izuna freezes. "I don't think you want my truthful answer to that, Niisan."

"Maybe we should marry you off first." Madara mutters from the corner of his mouth. "Then they can pester you about your relationship with _your wife_."

"Oh but Niisan." Izuna murmurs and sounds far too innocent for his own good. "I'm not the clan head. _You are._ " Yes, Izuna's smile is too wide and shows too many teeth to be innocent. "And if you even dare bring up marrying me off to the Elders, I will personally tell them about the many many bathtub incidents."

Madara stiffens. Water fighting in the bathroom is behavior most unbefitting of a clan head. "You wouldn't."

" _I so would._ " Izuna pats him lightly on the head. "There there Niisan. It's okay. Your beloved little brother will keep your secrets for you."

Madara shoves him off the walkway and into the dirt four inches below. "Bah."

Izuna sprawls into the dust with a yelp. "Niisan!"

He rises to go, but Izuna's hand tightens on his ankle and unbalances him sufficiently that he too takes a dive towards the dirt.

He peels himself off of the ground and pats the dust out of his front with a mildly miffed glare at Izuna. "You're the worst otouto in the entire world."

Izuna grins cheekily at him. "Oh don't I know it, Niisan." He prances back towards the house. "But you love me for it."

"No, I don't." Madara calls after him. "I hate you, Izuna!"

* * *

 **A.N.** Where some things shift and change. Though Madara certainly doesn't hate his little brother, and we see Tobirama through more human eyes.

Still trying to push through everything about ending my first semester at college.

Thanks to everyone who keeps supporting me, and I sincerely hope that everyone is well this holiday season. Best of luck to everyone who has to get through exams!

~Tavina


	16. Harvest Moon

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"The sun himself is weak when he first rises, and gathers strength and courage as the day gets on."

— Charles Dickens, _The Old Curiosity Shop_

* * *

He's still sitting on the walkway with his cooling tea later that night, looking up at the harvest moon.

Tonight, Kanae is not in residence. Instead, she's gone to Inami's sewing circle, though she should be back by now.

He swirls his tea around in its cup and lazily considers going to search for her.

Would they find it strange that he misses her already? It hasn't been more than a few hours since she left for Inami's house. Surely, surely, it is too early to miss her.

Ah, but he wants to…

What does he want exactly?

His heart has shifted without him knowing it, but what does that mean that he wants?

Such a thought is a difficult one to consider.

Instead, his mind falls back to the last petition that had managed to be heard before winter sets in. At that point, perhaps Hashirama will be convinced that the village has grown big enough.

All of Fire Country's major clans have either agreed to the alliance or resisted sufficiently that they are unlikely to ever join Konoha.

Madara personally finds the ones who have sworn their independence foolish. _They will suffer, if only because this village will find far more work than they will._ No longer would the daimyo be able to pit one clan against another for profit and bloodshed. At least, it shouldn't work that way.

Then again, perhaps the clans who have not joined Konoha are merely waiting for a bloodbath to occur within these walls because of the long held grudges between clans. It is not as if such a thing is outside the range of possibility.

He had to tell Setsuna to pay reparations to a Senju clan member for damages inflicted due to an unfortunate argument about a week ago. It had been more than a headache and a half, and to this date, he is still uncertain if this has damaged his relationship with Setsuna or not. He hopes not, but he does not know so.

Still, it has been two years, and there has been no bloodbath.

Perhaps the tensions will ease.

Still, there is that last petition. _The Shimura are a small clan._ They had once been mightier, but over the course of time, the Shimura have dwindled to about thirty or so people. They now seek alliance with Konoha's growing power so that they may survive the coming years.

Hashirama had been all for letting them into Konoha, despite the relatively little benefit the village will accrue from their addition.

Tobirama had been all for leaving that kettle of fish alone, especially with the winter coming.

And then they had turned to him as if expecting him to solve the dispute — what they were smoking, he will never have any idea — and all he could say was that he'll think about it.

So here he is now, thinking about it.

Or rather, avoiding thinking about it, because he'd had a conversation with Izuna, and then promptly decided that he misses his wife.

He uses one affair to avoid thinking of the other, and the other affair to avoid thinking of the first. For not the first time, he concedes that his thoughts are circular with no beginning or ending to the avoidance.

He takes a sip of his cold tea and huffs.

 _Since when did I become a person to settle a dispute?_

He hasn't the faintest clue how to resolve this issue. He doesn't have an opinion. He has thoughts about this — who wouldn't? — but he doesn't have hard opinions about the matter.

 _I judged wrongly the last time._ He'd been so against integrating the Inuzuka, but they had been people much like his own clan.

And so his thoughts go round and round, his empathy warring with his fears.

"Madara-sama?" He looks up to find Kanae standing over him, her sewing basket on her arm. "Your tea's grown cold."

"I was thinking." He says as he moves aside so that she can sit beside him. _And I missed you and didn't want to go inside to our room by myself._

She sits down next to him, setting her basket by her side. "What about?"

"The Shimura clan wants to join Konoha." He sighs, and they sit there together for a moment, knees touching. "I am uncertain how the village ought to proceed."

She hums, her hands clasped around her knee. "And what are the ways you can proceed?"

"They could enter the village." And if he agrees to this option, Hashirama will beam and laugh and be all sorts of happy, because that would be 'getting through to him,' but—

"And what prevents this from being your choice?"

What prevents him indeed.

"Fear." It isn't rational. He knows this, but he fears anyway.

She turns to him. "And what is the worst that could happen because of these fears?"

For a brief moment, his mind conjures up an image of her in the pallor of death. He never wants to light that funeral pyre. He would have to, and it would break him.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her cheek for a moment too long. It is warm in the cool autumn air. "I could lose more family." _I could lose you._ Why does he not simply say this?

Does she know? He had told her once rather bluntly that he does not love her, and likely never will.

He has eaten those words very thoroughly now.

She smiles. "And if I told you that you should trust us?"

He huffs as he pulls her closer. "This is not a matter of trust." She sprawls in his lap, her arms around his neck. Would he hold her so close if he did not trust her?

"Oh, but it is." She says. "If you trust that we are not made of glass, then would you fear us breaking so much?" If he trusts—

"And what of the ones I have already lost?" He does not believe this is about the Shimura so much anymore. It is foolish to believe that a clan of thirty would want to join Konoha just so they could launch attacks at his clan and be quickly killed for their presumption, but his fears aren't just for that. "They were not made of glass, but still they died."

She sucks in a long breath. "It isn't the small clans you fear, is it, Madara-sama?"

"No." He agrees.

She turns his head so that their eyes meet. "If there is peace now, and neither Izuna nor I leave the village, shouldn't we fear your death more than you fear ours?"

"Life is senseless." He tells her. "And death even more so."

Ah, he sounds so paranoid, but he is one freak accident away from losing the entire world once again. He cannot _trust —_ She is right.

This is a matter of trust.

It's just a different sort of trust than the kind he was thinking of.

Is this why he does not want to think of children? _A son or daughter, and I would trust this world even less._

A year ago, if he came back to the house to find Izuna gone, his heart would have been in his mouth. And while he doesn't fear his family leaving the house anymore, there is the thought that time is like sand sliding out of his fingers, that life gave and took senselessly and somehow, against all odds he will live and they will... _not._

The thought is enough to drive him mad. He's sure of it.

"Yes." She agrees. "Death is senseless and painful, but 'dara-sama," that nickname is new to him, this blend of casual and reverent is new to him. "We will not leave you so easily."

Trust.

He has to trust.

It is not as if either she or Izuna is defenseless.

"You won't." He agrees. "I won't let you."

She laughs and kisses the end of his nose. "As you say."

He hooks an arm under her knees and rises to go in, tea set and sewing basket forgotten on the walkway. "I do say."

"Mmmm." She contains her laughter but only just. "So the fearsome warrior has declared. So it must be."

He frowns at her. "If you say that to me again, I shall drop you."

She smiles wider. "You won't."

He pauses there in the doorway, suddenly short of air. He ought to say something along the lines of 'watch me,' but all he manages at the moment is a brief and muffled. "Probably not." Curse him. Where did his tongue go?

A small silence lapses between them.

And in his particularly flustered — and why is he flustered exactly? He hasn't the faintest clue. — state of mind, his accursed tongue latches onto the first stray thought in his head and he says that instead. "Do you like children?" _Of course she likes children._

She regularly entertains quite a few children and their ideas, so she has to like them. Her send off from Uzu had contained plenty of crying children too, so it's not just a one time thing either.

"I do." She agrees happily. "I'm really excited about Neesan's baby."

Well.

At least, she hasn't noticed that his question was really rather inane.

"I meant your children." His mouth decides to continue. _She doesn't have any. How foolish am I? I know that._ He is certain the dull flush of his cheeks gets much worse when she turns around, her mouth a small o of shock.

"Would you like any, that is, do you think that," and because she is still watching him with rather amused green eyes, his mouth finally gives up and just. stops. talking.

"Why?" She asks, her face a scant inch from his own. "'Dara-sama, what _are_ you thinking of?"

 _Have mercy on me._ He thinks before she leans forward that last inch and kisses him with enough depth to drown in.

His thoughts are not less scrambled when they do break apart again. Much worse in fact.

The lack of orientation generally does nothing to organize his thoughts. "You are not good for my blood pressure." Is the first thing that comes to mind. The next is "You aren't good for my pride either."

"You," she says while observing him critically. "Are dodging my question."

"You aren't answering mine either." He had, in a roundabout way, asked her a question that he would like to know the answer of, if only he hadn't botched it so badly the first time around that it was mostly a collection of phrases instead of an actual question. "And I asked first."

"If I tell you that I aspire to at least three children who will make you prematurely gray with worry will you tell me what you were thinking about?"

Prematurely — "I will not have gray hair." He crosses his arms. "You are very horrible if that is what you want children for."

The laughter bursts from her like a swirling flood. She sits down on the floor and absolutely howls with it.

It only makes him crosser.

She pauses to look at him, and seeming has her laughter under control before it bubbles up once more until she can't contain it. "I wish I could remember your face forever." She sighs when she finally has her breath back. "You look so grumpy. Is it really so bad?"

"It is." He tells her very seriously. "I don't like that plan of yours." Three children then. A perfectly acceptable and wholesome number.

"'Dara-sama," she begins.

"Say it again." This name for him is new, but it cools his blood and heats it at the same time, and his name has never made him feel like this before.

"Dara-sama?" She says again. "Is it the name you like?"

"Mmm." He considers it, considers the way it falls from her lips. "Say it again."

"Dara-sama." She croons.

He offers her a hand and pulls her close. "We should begin soon if you want to make me prematurely gray, shouldn't we?"

"Else you will go gray by yourself." She heaves an exaggerated sigh. "That would be a pity."

He quite agrees.

* * *

"So you agree with me then?" Hashirama asks. "You think we should welcome the Shimura as well?"

Seeing as he had made a decision last night, he deems it only right to inform Hashirama and Tobirama about it.

"I believe we ought."

If they are like the Inuzuka, then there wouldn't be any problem. If they are underhanded in their dealings, then they will be coming to their deaths since he would show them no mercy.

As they are only thirty people instead of three hundred, the risk is significantly smaller.

"Are they not an unnecessary safety risk?" Tobirama paces back and forth, not yet angry, but about to be soon.

Madara has agreed with Tobirama a little more in recent days than he has agreed with Hashirama. Perhaps Tobirama is surprised that this time he has broken with habit and decided to agree with Hashirama this time.

"We gain nothing by allowing them entry, and the risk of them being hostile is—"

"Remarkably slim." He has thought of this further late last night while Kanae used him like her favorite pillow, slender fingers tracing one of his many scars. It was not the one Tobirama left on him. "They know that we are perfectly capable of killing them down to the youngest child if they ever express hostile tendencies."

"But we still gain no benefits even if they don't necessarily pose a security risk." Tobirama stops pacing. "We still haven't conducted a census, and the harvest this year has been poorer than in other years due to the heat this summer…"

That isn't heartlessness. It's responsibility.

Ever since his conversation with Tobirama that he's done his best to bury to the depths of his memory, his mind keeps coming up with these little human things that he's noticed about Hashirama's demon changeling brother.

Like for example, Senju Tobirama hates disorganization and lives and breathes responsibility as if it's the lifeline keeping him afloat.

Maybe it is what keeps him alive.

Madara shakes that thought away.

The organization and responsibility probably comes from having an elder brother like Hashirama. Briefly he wonders what sorts of things Izuna has to compensate for with him, before he remembers that Izuna compensates for his social issues.

"Are we in danger of starving?" According to his own account keeping, even with the rice he sends to Uzu, his own clan is in no danger of starving this winter. The surrounding farmland outside the wall is fertile, and the lack of war makes it easier to cultivate fields, which reminds him that he ought to help with the harvest at some point.

It is already nearly November after all.

"The Senju aren't." Tobirama mutters. "But the damn Hyuga refuse to give up their numbers, and I haven't the foggiest clue how many of them there are, and the Nara are too lazy and…"

"Breathe." Hashirama cuts in from his own desk. "Tobi, you're not breathing anymore."

Tobirama's hair sticks up in spikes where he'd run his hand through it one too many times in frustration. "How am I supposed to breathe when everyone is absolutely incompetent? How can we accept responsibility for more people when our prospects of keeping them alive through the winter are increasingly murky?"

These fears are different ones than the ones that had plagued him last night.

His own had been much more...selfish.

He is not afraid to admit it. He is both possessive and selfish and full of anger and grief. Kanae has not made him less selfish. In all honesty, it is probably the opposite.

"Well," Hashirama says brightly. "It seems like I'll just have to pay a visit to Hyuga Hideji-san and ask him about the state of his affairs this winter. Maybe he even has extra food he's willing to donate."

And saying so, Hashirama bounds out of the door to do just that without an appointment or even a final destination in mind.

Tobirama's head comes to a slow rest on his desk. "Just watch." He comments to no one in particular. "He will get distracted partway through and go and buy another insanely stupid looking vase or other bauble to gift to Mito-neesan and forget all about visiting the Hyuga clan head until an insanely stupid hour of the night where no sane person will still be awake and…"

"Does he often make midnight visits to other people's houses?" As far as he is aware, Hashirama limits his visits to _his_ house to inconvenient hours of the early morning and mid afternoon.

"He will attempt to, and I will have to persuade him otherwise." Tobirama is still staring at the wall. He looks like he hasn't slept very much recently.

Maybe he hasn't even noticed that he is currently speaking to someone he dislikes speaking to as a general rule.

"And then," Tobirama continues, while absently running a hand through his hair. "Watch, I will have to go speak to Hyuga-san, and it will end the only way it knows how to, that is to say, badly."

Madara picks up another sheet of paper, something about a dispute regarding mission pay being split equally amongst members of a squad composed of different clans.

It isn't as if the whole issue could be judged by an unbiased automaton on a case by case basis. Equal pay for equal mission time is the only way the entire system could work out, but every other week someone will feel cheated and submit a complaint about it.

"Why will it end badly?" He asks as he continues to stare at the complaint and trying to decide if he wants to just quickly Katon jutsu the thing.

He ignores that he and Tobirama are having a perfectly civil conversation. If he thinks about it for too long, it still manages to be cast in various shades of surreality.

"Because I have no diplomacy apparently. Telling the truth isn't welcome these days." Tobirama blinks, looks at him, and then blinks again. "You're still here."

Madara glances at him from over the top of the complaint. "Of course, I'm still here. Where else would I have gone?"

"You asked about my problems." Tobirama stares at him.

It's starting to get uncomfortable.

Madara sets the complaint in the to-be-burned-pile and picks up another sheet of paper. "I often ask about other people's problems."

Okay, no he doesn't, but it isn't as if he can't say this without a straight face.

Tobirama just...breaks.

At least, he's half certain that hysterical laughter is part of emotional imbalance.

Madara reads through two pages of tax records. "Your mirth is adding to my headache." He mutters. "Do try to keep it to the bare minimum."

Tobirama takes a ragged breath. "Are you really Uchiha Madara?"

He sets the tax records down. Baiting Tobirama is much more fun than taxes anyway. "Am I some other Uchiha best friend of your brother that you hate?" He can't help it, the corner of his mouth tilts down as he tries not to laugh at the stupefied look on the Senju's face. If he'd known that it was this easy to imbalance Senju Tobirama, he would have tried this tact faster.

"You have a sense of humor."

"Indeed." He lazily twirls his brush around his fingers. "You will find that people who aren't dying of grief often have senses of humor." _Why didn't I sound even remotely this coherent last night when talking to Kanae?_

It must be because he isn't destined to win against her moving storm.

Lately, everything that he says to her has been cast in shades of stupid. Luckily, she doesn't seem to mind.

Tobirama's mental breakdown ends. Sort of.

At least he isn't laughing hysterically anymore.

At the moment, Madara will take what he can get on that front.

"What made you change your mind?" Tobirama asks as he too picks up a sheet of paper. "I was almost positive that yesterday you would have agreed with me, even if it wasn't my reasons."

He isn't going to talk to Senju _Tobirama_ of all people about the conversation he had with his wife.

"It's not your business." He jabs his brush at the tax plan. He's not going to talk to Senju Tobirama about his nebulous fears of losing and losing and losing and going mad.

Perhaps the changeling demon that is Hashirama's only living brother has shown more glimmers of humanity since he started looking, but that doesn't mean that they're going to have another discussion about feelings, and fears and _hopes and dreams for the future._

No matter what Hashirama believes, he isn't about to become friends with Senju Tobirama.

"Have it your way then." Tobirama mutters.

They don't have anymore halfway civil conversations.

The rest of the day is spent in frosty silence.

* * *

Several days later, he catches Kanae's hand after breakfast. Izuna had gone out early that morning to see the Elders, so it is only the two of them. "Are you busy today?"

She blinks. "Is there something you wanted us to do? I was only planning to do the laundry and perhaps go out to market to see if there are still anymore eggplants."

He smiles. _Not too busy then._ "I wanted to take you to see the harvest."

It has been a good year, or so Hikaku says. Madara hasn't been to the fields since planting in late April. The Tower and his own affairs had kept him so occupied.

But still, every year for at least one day, he works the harvest with the rest of the clan. It is tradition. It is ritual. And it is something that brought him joy once upon a time, before everything washed out into merely going through the motions.

"The harvest?" She stops clearing away dishes. "Inami had mentioned it. I didn't think…"

He swallows a laugh as he watches her try to square his normal state with perhaps a farmer. "You didn't think I'd have any interest in it?"

She frowns. "That's not quite what I meant." He waits for her to explain. "You're not fond of cooking." She says at last. "So I assumed you don't care for vegetables either."

Oh, he can't help it. He shakes helplessly in his chair. "I do know how to pick vegetables even if I don't know how to make them edible later."

If she asks Izuna to tell her stories of him cooking, they will eventually unearth the one where he set his own hair on fire trying to fry eggplants. He hopes she never asks, or Izuna will remember again and never let him hear the end of it.

He rises. "Will you come with me?"

She tucks a small hand in his. "Of course."

He pulls two straw hats out from under the table and plops one of them on her head, securing the purple chin strap almost absently. "We ought to get going then. Work should have already begun today." He doesn't like getting up with the sun, so it is already a hand above the horizon.

Work would have begun with the sun.

She looks almost Uchiha like this, not that she is not already Uchiha if she chooses to be, but—

 _Haha-ue and Chichi-ue would go to harvest like this._ During the good years, they would.

 _You'll have someone to go with you when you're older, Madara-kun. Someone very special to you._

Something catches in his eye, and he turns away suddenly.

Kanae doesn't ask, but her hand seeks out his.

He carries his kama in one hand. The other holds hers as they make their way out of Konoha's walls.

"Have you ever harvested rice before?" He had noted that Uzu's ground was far from ideal for rice paddies, but that doesn't mean there isn't other land more suited to rice cultivation that he hasn't seen.

"I haven't." She swings their clasped hands back and forth. "You will have to teach me then."

Something about this makes him inordinately pleased. "Hn."

* * *

Hikaku is not surprised to see him. "You're late, Madara-sama."

"I was detained." He was no such thing. He just didn't want to get out of bed.

Hikaku sends him a rather unimpressed look. "You could find a better excuse perhaps…" That's the problem with speaking to people again, he supposes. They express all sorts of things in front of him now, even thoughts he really doesn't want to hear. "Well, your paddy is over there." The man gestures to one of the large fields of browning rice stalks.

And then Hikaku does another one eighty when he turns to Kanae. "Oh, Kanae-hime! It's good to see you."

Kanae covers a smile with a hand. "It's good to see you too, Hikaku-san."

"Have you ever been to a harvest before? Do you need a sickle?" Madara rather suspects that Hikaku would have been perfectly happy being a farmer for all of his days and had only chosen not to be a civilian because the clan had need of every hand.

"I haven't before." Kanae takes the proffered farming implement. "And I think Masato-nii tried to teach me how to fight with a kama once, but it ended badly."

Madara tugs her along with him. "Don't listen to him. He only wants to rope you into doing more work. Come with me."

They head off in the direction of his field.

The paddies have been drained already in preparation for the harvest, and the ground is dry.

There are brown rice stalks bent nearly double, heavy with grains.

"Watch me first." He wades into the waist deep stalks and grabs a handful. The heads of the rice stalks come off with an expert swing of his kama. "Like so."

She's watching, careful to note where he slices through the stalks. "Like so?" Her own cutting is uneven.

He sets his kama down and comes to stand behind her, a hand over hers holding the handle of the sickle. "Like so."

They make the next swing together.

It is better. It no longer looks like a jagged saw has gone through the rice.

"A steady hand is better." He corrects her grip slightly and steps back.

"Where do the cut stalks go?"

"Behind you." He continues. "There will be people by to collect it later for drying and threshing." And then for packaging and storing, but those are jobs for later, for a night around a bonfire and singing.

There's much to do, but he's fondest of reaping the harvest.

"Alright." They continue together across the field in a content silence.

"Is this common in autumn here?" She asks when they pause for water on the other side of the field.

Taiko happens to be racing back and forth, bringing the reapers water and lunch. "We do this every year." And then he's off again, as someone else reaches the end of a field.

They sit on the edge of the paddy. "It's different than the autumn traditions we have at…" She pauses for a long moment.

"At home?" He asks her.

She misses the land caught between the sea and the sky, misses the sound of waves, the scent of salt and all the family she has not seen for nearly a year now.

"It isn't home anymore." She says slowly. "It's not the same."

He had left behind the border outpost he grew up in when Konoha was built, but then, he had also spent most of his years living in a tent or a temporary camp.

Konoha is the first place his heart has ever been attached to, and he has only lived here in this valley for two, nearly three years.

Her love for Uzu is so different from that.

She is not sad exactly, he thinks as he watches the way she tilts her head back towards the sun. The light plays on her face, the brim of the hat shading her eyes.

The angles of her features are less sharp now, her face a little fuller. He doesn't know if it's the lighting, the way he's changed, or if it's simply true. He accepts it all the same.

The sea is in her blood.

There's an idea here, a thought threatening to take root, but he'll have to speak to Izuna before anything can happen. It doesn't pass his lips.

"Tell me about your traditions."

She thinks about it. "The whalers and fishing boats will be back by now, before the bay freezes." It is still November, and while the first frost is not far off, the waters of the Nakano will not freeze for many days yet. "We would have a festival after the last of the boats make their way back."

Her brothers are whalers. "They leave for a long time then?" She speaks of celebrations when they do, so it is unlikely to be a short trip.

She blinks. "Months. They leave when the ice breaks and return when it's forming." She fiddles with a stray rice leaf between her hands as she looks out across the field. "We'd have a harvest too, of course, but never quite like this."

The rice fields are bigger now than they have been in years past, if only because the first year after moving to Konoha had been difficult. There hadn't been as many fields cleared as he would have liked.

"You don't have to worry any longer. What is mine is yours." He surprises even himself with these words. Had she been worrying? Does he even know, really? To disguise his unease, he stands and offers her a hand up.

"Thank you, Madara-sama."

Her words make him turn back to look at her.

She stands there at the edge of the field looking up at him, her shoes and legs stained with mud. There's a bead of sweat sliding down her nose she hasn't yet raised a hand to wipe away.

And even though she's been wearing a hat all day, there's a stray rice stalk caught in her hair.

He laughs a little when he pulls it away. "Of course."

* * *

 **A.N.** A bit more of a transitional chapter than other ones. I've always thought it was interesting that the other half of Madara's favorite weapon is a sickle of all things, since the original purpose of a kama is to harvest rice. Thus, my brain came up with this: Madara teaching Kanae something dear to him, and the two of them going to do something else together.

The next chapter should be Madara's birthday. At least, if my brain isn't derailed, the next chapter is Madara's birthday.

That and happy (belated) birthday to Madara. (I tried to get this out on Christmas Eve, but it just wouldn't...appear)

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed, and if I don't update again before the New Year, Happy New Year! May 2019 be better for you than 2018 in every way.

~Tavina


	17. Winter Solstice

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"It feels

Like coming home

After being gone for too long,

The way I gravitate to the good in you."

—Butterflies Rising

* * *

Winter's set in, though in the Land of Fire, it doesn't snow until much later, and even then, only rarely. Mostly, the days are just shorter and colder than they were before.

The Shimura have moved into Konoha, into a few of the houses Hashirama had put up for them closer to the Senju than to the Uchiha portion of the village. They are led by two brothers. Unlike other larger clans, every member of the Shimura is closely related to the other members. Blood ties and marriage bind all of them.

It is true for almost any clan, but the Uchiha are not as closely bound by blood.

He is related to every man woman and child who bears the name of Uchiha by blood or by marriage, but most times, it is not direct.

He had not been there to welcome them. There'd been a birth in his clan, and he'd been there to record the name in the registry. Naori and Riku had welcomed a daughter, Kyoko. As clan head, after the new father had held the child, he'd been next in line to welcome the new arrival. It is tradition.

It's a tradition that he's missed often enough in his nearly six years of leading the clan. No longer.

No longer.

Kyoko-chan has soft black hair and round cheeks that will likely smooth out with the time only years can give her.

Uchiha Kyoko is a child born to peace, and he hopes desperately that she will never see war. He wishes his own childhood on no one, even though so many have had to bear that yoke.

But there are children in this world who have not seen war, who do not quake or fear the approach of a stranger, who have never worried about the fate of their family when the red sun rises to give far too much clarity to the world.

There are lands that war does not touch just across the water of the eastern border of Fire Country.

It is not a foolish dream to believe in peace. It is merely an attainable goal that requires work and care, but the future he dreams of is not out of reach.

 _If it can be true for other people, for other lands, then it can be true here in Fire Country._

So he did not go to greet the Shimura. Perhaps that is rude of him, but he rather finds his own family important. Children can't be told to wait for a convenient time, so he doesn't regret a thing.

He doesn't regret learning that he actually rather likes very small children. They don't ask him any hard to answer questions, or indeed, tell him things he doesn't like hearing as Hikaku is so fond of doing recently.

What a blessing that is.

So he has missed greeting the Shimura.

Still, he doesn't expect Shimura Idate to ask to see him, not at the Tower, but at home. He didn't go to the greeting party, so he had considered the matter finished. Most people do not ask to see him if they don't have to.

Most people at least as far as he is aware.

Then again, the world has been in flux these past few months, so perhaps his reputation is changing. Then again, a dark reputation isn't going to be wiped away so easily. Ink doesn't bleed out of paper after all.

As far as he is aware, Shimura Idate does not have a single reason to see him.

He holds the note bemusedly in his hand that morning at the breakfast table on Saturday. It is written on heavy paper, carefully composed because this level of respect is unfamiliar to him.

The request to see him is framed almost apologetically, as though it is intruding on his time.

Were he a man of overweening pride, this would suit his tastes just fine.

Alas, he is not. It just makes him uncomfortable.

Something about the self abasement in this letter burrows under his skin and almost settles there before he exorcises the ghost. He cannot control how other people choose to address him.

"Shimura Idate wants to speak to me." He sets the paper down. "What should I say?"

"Invite him to dinner." Kanae picks up the note and scans it. "We don't know what he wants." More is better she seems to say. More minds bent towards understanding this situation will solve the mystery that much faster.

"Neesan's right." Izuna adds. "We don't know why he wants to see you here instead of at the Tower."

The only difference between his home and the Tower…

"My home is personal." he says at last. "He will see neither Hashirama nor Tobirama here." This is the oddest part of it, he supposes. No one besides someone with the last name of Uchiha or Uzumaki ever really wants to see him for anything without either Hashirama or Tobirama.

Unless they are in fact, Hashirama, but then Hashirama just shows up on his doorstep instead of sending letters.

What a confusing sentiment.

What does Shimura Idate want with only him? It is not as if he lords over this village, far from it.

Most days, it feels like all he does is look at paper. There's no reward for organizing taxes except the benefit of the task itself.

Although, he supposes if he were to ask for a reward, Kanae would be happy to feed him pastries until he no longer fits into his armor.

Which is an excruciatingly painful thought. _Not a future I look forward to._

Not entirely true. A future of days filled with happy regards _is_ something he desperately looks forward to. He wants her love so desperately he almost frightens himself.

He is cannot half-love. _Didn't you learn anything from the first time you put your heart in someone else's hands?_

 _She will not hurt me._

 _She will love me. She will._ He has no idea how to persuade someone to love him, but this time at least, he is willing to try instead of drowning in the despair of it.

A second love. A second chance. The thought hovers in his consciousness.

No. Put it away for now. Not now.

The last he's heard of regarding Hashirama's attempts to make the Hyuga cough up their numbers had ended huffily, though Hashirama's attempts with the Nara had ended much more successfully. At least they've ascertained that another clan wouldn't be in danger of starvation this winter.

The Hyuga are still a question mark.

Perhaps he should invite Hyuga Hideji over for dinner too and glare the older man into submission. His black reputation surely isn't in tatters just yet. He'd fought the Hyuga once upon a time. He had killed Hyuga clan members once upon a time.

Now they're his next door neighbors.

But then, maybe he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He's certain Hyuga Hideji has not forgotten who killed his younger brother.

His sudden new popularity means nothing, not to the Hyuga, not to himself, not to the Senju and certainly not to his family who have always cared for him anyway. Still, it's a thought, but just that.

Riku had been so nervous to hand Kyoko-chan over to him, but that was all the jitters of new fatherhood, not a personal statement about how much he trusted Madara.

"He has already spoken with the Senju." Izuna says suddenly as if remembering something he hadn't considered particularly important. "I heard it from Hikaku who heard it from someone else."

"So he wishes to play both sides." Kanae muses. "I wish Neesan told me what Shimura-san talked about with Hashirama. Then we would know if he has any differences we need to be concerned about."

"It's likely not that serious." He doesn't think that there's anyone stupid enough to provoke strife between himself and Hashirama.

At least he hopes there isn't anyone who's stupid enough to do that.

Even if Hashirama didn't spend the last five years jerking his heart around on a string, they have still been friends since they met by the river that day so long ago.

In his own mind at least, it would be difficult to sow hatred towards Hashirama. He ought to trust that Hashirama wouldn't believe any lies about him.

Hell, Hashirama hadn't believed any _truths_ about him either, preferring to insist that Uchiha Madara is a "good man." What Hashirama's capable of ignoring or just straight up denying is nothing short of miraculous.

He had denied Madara's hand in the death of his own _father._ That is, that Madara had killed Senju Butsuma and still does not regret it.

What Hashirama can forgive or ignore or deny is entirely revolutionary. If truths can't even shake Hashirama's faith in him, then it's unlikely that lies will.

At least, he has to believe that. He has to believe that, or everything is lost.

"Well, we won't know until he's here." Kanae starts to clear the dishes away.

Izuna nods in agreement.

"It's settled then." He picks up the note and heads towards his desk. "I'll ask him to dinner."

Since it is settled, the matter leaves his mind entirely.

* * *

That is, the matter leaves his mind entirely until a week later when he remembers that he has dinner that night with Shimura Idate. He ends up in his front room, trying to pretend that he is doing something other than waiting for the guest of the hour to arrive.

He fails.

His thoughts go round and round and round and round, wondering what exactly Shimura Idate would ever want with him.

Instead of anything remotely useful, he begins to messily sketch the room in front of him. A vase of flowers on the tea table before him, a ink and brush painting of peonies on the rough wooden wall to his right, _plain_ sliding doors.

 _I will need to paint those sometime._ How he has managed to stop himself from at least adding decorative flowers to his sliding door panels, for the most part, eludes him.

Nearly three years of living here, and he has failed to finish his house. Had his mood really grown so black? Was he moss covered or something else equally detrimental? Surely he was not this prone to brooding and melancholy? Did he turn to stone to have not remembered his childhood dreams? What else has he forgotten about himself?

Years ago when he had dreamed of peace, he had also dreamed of a house with paintings, with vases, lacquered tables, polished floors, and smoothed walls, not a nobleman's house by any stretch of the definition, but still more pleasant than living in a tent.

He had imagined a home more permanent than a cloth structure that could be taken down and moved at a moment's notice.

Now he has one, and he has money, and it still looks like a structure Hashirama made two weeks ago. Why had he suffered living in this sort of situation anyway? His room doesn't have to be spartan.

He can decorate everything with whatever he'd like.

Why hasn't he done that already — filled his tables with little nick nacks and keepsakes, put paintings on every wall, vases in every room? His table only has flowers because of Kanae's amusement.

He still gets polite, contradictory death threats from the flowers in that vase.

He has taken to smiling at it in moments when he pauses writing records and calculating sums.

"You are staring at the door." Kanae cups his cheek with a hand. Her smile is amused. "Has it offended you? You seem to take offense to it."

"Remind me to paint the doors." He comments half absently. Her touch is warm, and that distracts him from his contemplations as to what he actually wants to put on the doors. More peonies? Violets? Tulips? Carnations?

Why is his house so large? It is far too large for only three people. There are plenty of doors to cover with flowers. But there are also so many empty rooms. How is he ever going to find a use for all of them?

What does he even fill the five or six still empty rooms in this house _with_? Surely no one thought he was going to have six children, did they? Because he would have to yell at whoever built those extra rooms in his house then.

Ah well, a calming thing to do this winter. _Paint the doors._ He's always liked painting when he had the time and the materials for it.

He turns his head and brushes his lips against her palm. "I don't like plain doors."

"You don't like…" Kanae trails off. "I thought you liked how the house is."

"I…" He almost laughs, not exactly in amusement, but certainly not in grief. "I like decorations."

She blinks at him slowly as if trying to fit this piece of information into her worldview. After a moment she laughs. "Why didn't you tell me before?" She pats the top of his head comfortingly. "Never fear, you won't have to look at bare walls ever again."

He feels a small tendril of concern grip him at that declaration. Kanae's taste in color is not always...pleasing to other people. "What do you plan to do to the walls?"

"Fill them with paintings of koi fish, of course." She sounds entirely too innocent when she says this. "Don't you like paintings of koi fish?"

"No, I do not." He makes sure to scowl. "I do not want—"

Someone is here. There are footsteps in his courtyard.

The two of them school themselves into some semblance of propriety. He crosses one leg over the other, a hand holding his ankle.

And there's the slide of his door opening.

Shimura Idate is here.

The man brought his son with him. Clearly then, all of their expectations as to why the Shimura wished to speak to him were wrong.

One doesn't bring reminders of one's weakness to talks designed to provoke outrage.

That only begs the question of what he's here for then.

 _Patience is a virtue. Eventually I will find out. Tonight even if I do not send them screaming for the hills._

"It's good to meet you, Shimura-dono." Kanae greets them with tea and a smile.

Shimura bows to her, and his son does the same. "It's good to meet you as well, Uchiha-san, Uchiha-dono." How interesting.

Kanae is Uchiha-san, but he is Uchiha-dono.

He inclines his head in greeting. "Shimura-dono." Only fair. Only fair that they use the same titles for each other.

"And how do you like it in Konoha so far?" She asks the child.

The young Shimura frowns. "It's crowded." His dark eyebrows draw together like storm clouds in an evening sky. "And dirty."

 _Konoha is not—_

"Danzo! Konoha is nothing of the sort." Shimura Idate looks almost...afraid. Of what, Madara isn't certain.

The man has cast him several glances at him.

He sets his brush down. "Konoha is certainly dustier than any camp. And there are more people who live here than a village."

He has come home more than once with a thick layer of yellow dust over his shoes and the hems of his pants. It's likely what Shimura Danzo was so concerned about. For a child who has only ever lived in a small camp, Konoha must be infinitely larger, busier, and more dirty.

He's not so offended really.

The foot traffic makes it difficult to keep the dust down during dry summers, and it has not rained for some time, leaving the earth beneath their feet to turn to powder.

He is not so offended really, but that doesn't mean that he's entirely _happy_ to hear Konoha being referred to as such.

Kanae's smile becomes more amused than welcoming. "Perhaps we should break bread first before we speak of how well you like it here, Shimura-san?"

"Ah, well. If it would not be a bother…" Shimura looks between the two of them, eyes flicking back and forth as though wondering who he should listen to.

Does he not know that Madara himself doesn't contradict Kanae often at all?

 _He knows my reputation._

 _He's afraid of me._ Madara realizes suddenly, every drop of blood turning to ice within him. _He is afraid of me, but he is here anyway._

"I invited you here for dinner." He rises from his chair and offers Kanae his arm. "So dinner before business is only reasonable." It comes out wrong somehow.

He does not mean to force his guests to go to dinner. He does not mean to force anyone to do anything. He just thinks this whole awkward conversation could be alleviated somehow by a meal and more company and time.

Social graces have never been his strength, and there is no Izuna here to smile politely and parse his language. _Have I always depended so much on Izuna?_

"Supper is ready." Kanae sets a hand in the crook of his arm. "Do not be so afraid of offending us that you cannot speak the truth, Shimura-san." She flashes the man and his child a brilliant smile. "We are not so different from the people you know."

Ah, Shimura has relaxed a slight margin.

He must remember to thank her later. He could not have diffused this situation on his own. No matter what he said, says, will say, Shimura will look upon it with suspicion.

He does not want to leave his name behind exactly. It is the reactions of others he wishes to change. But he has little control over that.

He has little control, and that sort of powerlessness nags away at him, gnawing on the rough edges of his heart.

 _When did I want love instead of fear?_ Fear had suited his purposes once.

No longer. No longer.

* * *

She'd outdone herself today with the intricacies of the meal. It looks like feast made to celebrate something.

He's not exactly sure what, but he isn't going to complain about it.

Especially since Shimura relaxes more as he eats.

Danzo-kun does not seem to be a talkative child, for the most part silent unless addressed.

Madara observes him as he seems to observe everyone else. Those dark eyes wander over everyone's faces, noting every expression, every gesture, surely the child knows he's being watched too.

 _What does he hope to accomplish with such a thing?_ Surely his father told them that they were guests. Guest right demands that…

Guest right in _Uzu_ demands that no visitor be harmed after bread is broken.

They are not in Uzu.

When did he pick up the custom of thinking about guests like so?

He is not from Uzu. Kanae is from Uzu.

But then, perhaps it is something he believes now as well. She'd always been so earnest about the rights that people are afforded.

Rights, things that people have by value of birth, offered equally to all. He likes the thought of them, both giving and receiving, so that everyone may know what to believe in, to trust

"What else have you thought about Konoha?" He asks Danzo-kun this, because he rather suspects that the child will tell the truth far more accurately than the adult will.

The boy chews on his bottom lip for a long time without responding. Clearly his chichi-ue's chastisement earlier has made it difficult to say how he feels.

The opinions of parents often has an impact on the responses of the child.

"It's louder."

There are more people, and Konoha's market place has grown crowded in these two, nearly three, years since its founding.

Madara is personally proud of the fact.

"There are more people." He observes. "Neighbors are loud." _And often irritating and unfortunate and once your enemy._ The Hyuga next door get on his nerves.

He understands that they are unlikely to spy on him, the walls of their compound prevents such a thing, but that doesn't mean the Byakugan does _not_ bother him.

"Have you been leader of the Shimura for long?" Izuna asks in the silence that follows.

"Eight years."

That is longer than he has been clan head.

For him, it has only been nearly six years.

"That is longer than I have led this clan." The other man seems surprised to hear this. "I believe I still have much to learn."

Yes, there is always much to learn.

"I'm sure you must have to worry much more than I do." This sentiment seems rather genuine, so Madara takes it for what it is.

"Anyone who leads has to worry." This has been one of his most awkward conversations in a long time.

Even with Tobirama it wasn't this level of uncomfortable formality.

He doesn't frighten Tobirama. They'd often screamed at each other, reduced to anger and hatred until they'd have to be physically pulled apart.

Of course, he doesn't prefer to engage in a fist fight with everyone he meets, but this uncomfortable conversation has gone on long enough.

No one could ever accuse him of patience, so it's time at last to figure out what Shimura wants from him.

He sets his bowl down and rises. "Perhaps we ought to adjourn to my study, Shimura-dono. I assume there is much to speak of regarding Konoha."

And then maybe, he can finally get to the bottom of this absurd riddle of a meeting. _Who requests to meet someone that they are clearly uncomfortable to be around?_

Shimura Idate follows him out of the kitchen.

They end up in his study. What a lovely thing it is that Kanae thought to put a folding screen between his work area and hers today.

What a lovely, lovely thing.

Still, there's a single purple carnation in the vase on his desk when he sits down. _Distinctive love. I'm fascinated by you._

She probably chose it for the color, but that doesn't mean the meaning doesn't warm him nonetheless. What a little thing to take faith in, but oh, what a sweet thought to consider as well.

He raises his eyes to the man who sits across from him. "We are away from the eyes and ears of both my family and yours now, and I confess I am still at a loss as to what would drive you to come here."

Shimura takes a breath and finally opens his mouth to broach the subject that he's been waiting to hear about all night. "I came here to thank you." The man grimaces slightly. "Though it seems I've done a bad job of it."

"Thank me?" He's half certain any higher and his eyebrows would have to leave his face. "Whatever for?" _Thank me? I've done nothing to deserve thanks._

"Senju-dono told me when we met that had you not voted for accepting my clan, we would have received no welcome in Konoha."

 _Hashirama would have?_

"It's unlikely my thoughts had much to do with the matter." No, Hashirama's stray remark is just what he _thought_ he would have done. "You may rest assured that if Hashirama wanted to welcome you, you would have been welcomed eventually." But no, really, all his surrender on that particular front had just prevented another fight.

Hashirama would have done what he wanted and eventually wear everyone else down anyway.

How often is he going to surprise someone today? These are not unheard of thoughts.

Surely everyone knows them.

"Even so," Shimura bows to him from the waist. "Another winter and my sister-in-law would have died. For her life, I thank you."

Somehow, these words ring in his ears for far too long.

 _For her life, I thank you._

No one has ever thanked him for such a thing before.

Was that all Shimura wanted to say?

* * *

He wakes the morning of the the twenty-fourth to Kanae still curled up by his side, his hand cradling the swell of her hip, her arm thrown over his chest.

"You're awake." She laughs and slaps a hand over his eyes. "There's a lot to do."

There is a lot he can do to stop this, but he's willing to humor her. "What do we have to do?"

"Hmm." She hums softly. "Since it is a special day…" The press of her lips against his is warm. "Maybe we should only do what you want to do today."

It had snowed the night before, dusting the ground in a thin layer of white. He'd finally finished his first full painting of flowers.

The first few had to go.

His art skills had spent so long in disuse that they had withered, the first few attempts nothing short of unacceptable.

"And if I want to go nowhere and do nothing, will you stay here with me?" He is twenty five today. What a thought.

"Of course I will." She removes her hand.

The morning sun dazzles his eyes, spilling in from the window. He drags a hand over his face. The problem with waking up after the sun is that it will always attempt to blind him when he does. "Then stay."

He knows about the cake she'd attempted to smuggle into the house at unawares, had passed it on his way to her last night.

He suspects that there will be some sort of celebration later tonight, if only because this clan of badly shuttered gossiping mouths would hardly miss a chance to toast to his health and happiness and possibly the idea of children of his own.

They seem to realize that he would not be opposed to too many people cramming themselves into his courtyard and throwing a party, so he suspects that they'll do it given the first excuse.

That excuse would be his birthday.

He knows this to be true, so he wants his morning to be peaceful at least.

A walk along the river later perhaps. He wants to see what she looks like among the bare branches, if winter here would bring a flush to her cheeks, if she prefers the colder weather. He wants to know what she thinks of the Naka.

She settles against his side once more, a hand over his heart. "Alright."

For a long few minutes, everything is still.

"Will you tell me about how you learned to paint?"

A laugh escapes him. "Why do you think I know how to paint?" She'd seen his first few attempts.

They had not ended well. He is only glad that Izuna was unable to see them and laugh in his face, though he knows that Izuna was aware, just unaware of the full extent of his regression.

"Because your peonies are beautiful." The sentence is simple, but it touches him more than anything else she might have said in response.

"We spent the winter in Kakunodate once, as guards to the Daimyo's daughters." He'd been about sixteen or so then, or just about to turn sixteen. It had been a cold winter. "I think I interested the court painter." He'd spent most of the time avoiding his responsibilities to actually guarding the elder princess. The younger one was more bearable and didn't blink so rapidly that he'd feared for her mental development. "He'd never met a shinobi so ready to leave Honoka-hime's presence."

"Ah." She says, a smile in her tone though he cannot see it. "You learned to paint while you were shirking your duties."

"She looked like she had something perpetually caught in her eye." He frowns upon remembering it. "There was too much blinking going on."

"Oh, I _see_ ," Kanae purrs and pushes herself up, a hand splayed on his chest. "Something like this?" She blinks slowly at him. "Oh, _Madara-sama how strong you must be. I am certain I never met anyone who could even compare to you._ "

He almost chokes on air. "How did you—" _know what she..._

Her hand slides slowly lower. His eyes fall to her lips. Her hair falls about their faces, a red curtain. "And how beautiful you are that your eyes haunt me so."

She is smiling, her face tinged with a sort of terrible amusement, looking up at him through her lashes.

This is somehow, something she is doing to amuse herself at his expense. He just hasn't figured out what.

Mostly because he is choking on air slowly.

They are the very same words, or near enough in his memory that it doesn't matter, but why does—

"You're baiting me." Why do these words from her lips wake the fire in his blood? He has heard them before from other lips, and they had not the power to move him then. "Why?"

"Oh," she examines him. "So she was flirting with you." She laughingly presses a kiss to his forehead. "And you didn't even notice."

"She most certainly was _not_." He grouses. What a horrible idea it was to tell her about this story. Now she thinks he had admirers. "She simply had eye problems. I am glad to be rid of her."

She buries her face in the space between his shoulder and his neck, shaking with uncontrollable laughter. "Glad to be rid of her! Oh, I can't even imagine the disappointment."

Still, she is happy, and that delights him.

* * *

They do end up walking along the river, not quite hand in hand, but close enough that he doesn't care to know the difference.

She looks at home here among the soft touch of first snow, the dark branches bare against the gray sky. Perhaps she is made to fit all seasons, for she'd looked at home in summer as well, heavy green leaves covering the sky above them.

"I met Hashirama for the first time on the other side of the river here." He pauses at a nondescript portion of the riverbank. "Back then, it was all forest."

"And now the home you built is behind you."

He wonders what she sees at this patch of river, if she can feel the weight of the memories here. There is so much history here, despite it being the same as any other length of the Naka.

"I suppose." He takes her hand. "There is much to celebrate as well as much to grieve." He would rather spend his life in celebration, even if grief keeps trying to drag him back.

She swings their hands back and forth as they walk further down the river. "And today is a day to celebrate."

"Is that why you were so happy to leave the house?" He asks. "There are people being ordered about by Izuna right now, aren't there?"

She wilts. "I don't have any idea what you mean."

"So we can go home now then?" He asks. Ah, it is amusing that she thinks he wouldn't notice.

Setsuna had been lurking around in his back courtyard for no reason at all, and he thinks he ran into Hikaku holding a large number of decorations and passed people who were preparing for a party for seemingly _absolutely_ no reason and were all to busy to talk to him.

 _I might be a bit dense at times, but surely I'm not that dense._

"No, we should keep walking." Her reply is a little too fast. "There's no hurry to go home since we finally came out to do things."

He squishes her cheeks together fondly. "So you admit it then. They are planning a party and they need me to be out of the house."

"I admit nothing." She pouts at him. "Nothing at all."

He laughs. "So cute you are in your denial." He gets his laughter under control. "And they are beloved even in their deception of me."

"It's not a deception!" She turns to face him fully, holding both his hands. "It's a surprise."

He cannot help it really, that his right eyebrow attempts to climb to his hairline. "An ambush is not a deception now?" _So you do admit it, they are planning a party and your job of the day is to keep me away until they can ambush me._

It is almost too cute, the slip of tongue. She hasn't even realized it.

"A surprise is not an ambush!" She protests, righteous indignation snapping in her eyes before she realizes with stunning horror that… "Oh no. I ruined the surprise." She sags in his arms with a surprising amount of unhappiness and disappointment.

 _Perhaps I should have just pretend to not know._

 _Would she have derived more happiness from that?_ But no. It gives him no joy to lie to her, and pretending that he did not know would be a lie.

"I will pretend to be surprised." He pats her shoulder in a way that he imagines is at least a little comforting. "They will not know you gave it away."

"But Madara-sama," she wails with increased distress. "That is not the same as truly being surprised." Her sadness is mostly done for dramatics, though he does feel the undercurrent of disappointment in her words anyway.

"That is probably for the better." Surprises of any kind had always set him a little on edge. People bursting out from under tables or from behind doors normally ends in blood. "I would hate to hurt someone during a happy occasion."

"Oh." She pauses, no longer dramatically sad. "Well, that's true." And like a summer storm, her mood passes from gray to bright. "Well, we can go back to the teahouse, and...

* * *

 **A.N.** And well, we get half of Madara's birthday in this one, as well as some random politicking and other things. The cute shall remain cute. I am busy, but the regularly scheduled fanfiction must continue!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!

~Tavina


	18. Breaking Storm

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"The horror you have committed is not who you are."

— Unknown

* * *

The first thing that he notices on their walk back through the district in the late afternoon after whiling away several very pleasant hours at the teahouse is that it's very loud.

It gets louder the closer he gets to his house in fact.

Perhaps those extra rooms will be useful for something after all. He can stuff people who ask him uncomfortable questions — Hikaku comes to mind — there.

"I don't even have to feel guilty." Kanae seems incredibly cheered by this. "At this point, it's not a surprise anymore. They're not even trying to be surprising."

He chuckles, his arm around her waist. As it turns out, her cheeks do flush red in the winter air. He half expects that she would not appreciate any strawberry comparisons, despite the persistent thought that she does look a little bit like one. It is the sharp point of her chin is all, the roundness of her face. It invites a strawberry comparison. He cannot help that.

"Didn't I tell you I am good at pretending to be surprised?" He considers the sheer amount of noise coming from the outer door of the courtyard. "At this rate, I don't need to pretend to be surprised either. They'll surprise themselves."

Yes.

He does not choose to use the front door. Instead, he pulls her towards the much quieter back entrance behind the house. "If they will not surprise me, perhaps I should surprise them."

When he turns back to look at her, she is flushed with amusement, mischief in her eyes. "What a good plan." She whispers, her breath tickling his ear. "How shall we plan our attack?"

He hasn't thought beyond sneaking towards his room and pretending that they've been there all along, but she is invested in this particular joke, so it has to be better than that. "Actually. What would happen if we never arrive?"

"They'd send out a searching party." She replies without a hint of teasing. "They can't miss the guest of the hour for tonight."

He considers the sound of the party. "Will they truly miss me?" They seem to be happy enough as they are now. Would they really mind if he just…

Yes, of course, they would.

And if he does not return, they really will send out a searching party. Why would he ever think otherwise?

"Of course they would." She sounds surprised, serious, sad. "They love you dearly, and they want to celebrate your life today."

He squeezes her hand once. "I know." He does know. "It is just that sometimes I…" How to word this properly? "It is hard for me to say that."

"You know it, but at the same time, you doubt it."

Oh yes, there are the words he was searching for. He hums, half in agreement, and half in regret. "As you say, I do not trust the truth of it."

They'd never given him reason not to trust them, but his heart is frail and sometimes he cannot help but wonder if his family would prefer him gone. It would be easier in some ways.

He causes tension where he goes instead of easing it — a dark reputation is not so easily erased — it would be easier if he were gone. Easier if he'd never been to begin with.

He knows that isn't true, that they would grieve him if they lost him. It doesn't stop the thoughts that spin round and round in his head.

"One day you will." She says this with perfect confidence, as if she's peeled away the years and seen the future.

He smiles. _If only I could believe like you._

 _You'll have to believe for the both of us for now._ One day the future they both dream of will become the rest of their lives.

He'll believe in light and water then. Fire and blood will be merely a distant memory of a less happy past. He has to believe that there is something to be had in the future, or else all is lost.

"I believe we have a surprise to plan?" He asks.

She turns to him, delighted. "Of course we do."

He pushes open the door to his back courtyard slowly.

It is deserted.

Thank Kami. They only chose to invade the front.

This shall make it easy then.

The two of them sneak very quietly across the back courtyard and carefully slide open the door. No one in this hallway either. They must have really tried to contain themselves then, and not poke about in his house when he is not at home.

Maybe Izuna asked them to show some restraint. He wouldn't be surprised if they actually listened to Izuna.

His little brother's always been so good at getting other people to see things his way. It's no surprise now that they'd respect his wishes to the letter.

"Madara-sama." Kanae whispers in his ear. "This way." She tugs him down a hallway, and then past what seems to be an attempt at a decoration and then...it is too much to ask that they shall avoid everyone in a house this densely saturated with shinobi.

Setsuna appears around a corner, promptly announces his return to the rest of his family and with a resounding war whoop they descend upon him with food and conversation.

And that, is lovely.

* * *

It is soon after his birthday when the nightmares begin again. At first, they are only impressions, fleeting and unimportant, but he wakes drenched in sweat while Kanae sleeps peacefully beside him, unknowing.

He is no longer there amongst blood and too small bodies, but he feels unclean all the same.

It has been a long time since he's dreamt these dreams filled with fire and smoke in dark edges and haunted with blood and wide, unseeing eyes.

He shifts and attempts to go back to sleep, but now that he's awake, it's a conscious memory instead of a dream.

It has been over half a year since he's dreamed of this. Over half a year.

Ever since he stepped foot on Uzu's shores. He had not dreamed of this part of the war since he'd spent the night sitting on a rock on the opposite shore, in a land so far from here that peace reigned for hundreds of years without a war to break it.

He'd spent one sleepless night there staring out across the water, watching the moonlight fade to dawn with Kanae's head against his knee.

Whatever fortune he'd been blessed with since that trip is gone now.

The nightmares have returned.

He remembers the blood on his hands. He remembers the taste of iron and rust. He remembers the feelings. He remembers the guilt, the thick feeling of grief and wrongness gripping his throat.

He sees the scene on the back of his eyelids. And the ghost will not stop haunting him.

"Mmm." Kanae sighs next to him, her arm thrown over his heaving chest. The pale light of the moon illuminates her neck, the pallor of her face, and if she was not so warm, he would fear how corpse like her skin looks like in the lighting.

He cannot think of this, not now. Not when he is also so close to falling over the brink once more.

No. Not now.

Not now, not now, notnownot—

He breathes out, air catching in his throat. No.

He is bloodstained. He can feel the blood on his hands, on his cheek, that terrifying reality of what he'd done.

 _There was no other choice. There was no other choice. I had to._ But that is what they all say. All sinners say this when it's judgement day.

There was no other choice, take the low road or die, and he hadn't been willing to die. He hadn't been willing to die. Why hadn't he been willing to die?

When it all comes down to it, are his morals made of nothing but empty breath in the end?

He closes his eyes, shaking away the ghosts by turning his head firmly in the other direction. He ought to sleep.

Kanae's hair tickles his nose. He is safe here, away from harm, away from blood, from fire, from smoke. There is no need to fear the ruin of what he's done.

He can run from it here.

He is in her arms, in a happy home, in a world of peace. There is light and there is water.

There are birthdays and pastries and small children tugging at his sleeve.

There is Kanae, and there is Izuna, and there is a clan that still respects him somehow.

He forces his heavy eyelids to remain shut. There is nothing he need think of. Konoha is no longer a pipe dream. No longer will children die in the name of pride or need or war. There is no war here. There is no war in the paradise he's built.

There is no war.

* * *

He cannot run. In his memories, there were two bodies, both too small to have been on the battlefield, but he had no choice. He could've let them go and let the team of clansmen he led face potential casualties and heavier fatalities, or he could end this right now.

Two swipes of his kunai, two slit throats faster than the eye could blink, two hands stained with children's blood, two eyes that had seen everything, one heart that could not stand what the mind had done.

And it has torn him apart ever since.

He has killed plenty. His hands had been stained with far more than the blood of two innocent lives, but of the blur of death around him, those two children and how they'd looked almost peaceful lying where he'd left them like two dolls stained with red seem to almost have names.

They'd been the first.

He'd lived so long before that, been a murderer before that, but that had been in battle, this had just been slaughter.

He'd paused there for too long after, chest heaving, hands stained, breath leaving him in short ragged bursts, white in the frigid air.

He'd paused there for too long, with hands less scarred than they are now. The deaths should have hardened him. The logical progression was that he'd grow up, passing the threshold from boy to man, but he had not.

No, he'd stood there in the wintry air the day he turned seventeen, on ground iron hard, with ice running in his veins.

He'd entered that clearing on a routine patrol, a boy.

He'd left a beast.

A monster of the worst sort.

The same sort of man that had taken his little brothers, who'd killed Haha-ue, who caused his family to grieve the dead who died too young, the same sort of man he'd always hated.

This dream always took the same path. He is in the clearing. He is in the clearing and he cannot stop his hands, his training moves him even when his heart cries out _no._

He moves, dropping from the branch above the children's head like a cat, silent and deadly, landing on his feet without even a whisper of sound. And then a single slash and two small bodies drop like their strings were cut, sprawled in an almost peaceful death scene, throats still gasping for air.

Except—

"Why did you do it?" She's there behind him, green eyes full of judgement. "They were only children. Surely you could have spared children." _You love children._

And she does. She _does._

His mouth runs dry. "But then more people could die."

"They never had the chance to live." She takes a step closer to him, bare feet absolutely silent despite the dead grass bending beneath her weight. "You took that from them."

Her mouth on his is poison. Her words are bitter. He kisses her anyway.

He cannot stand it, cannot stand this, cannot _stand—_

"Why would you do such a thing?" The accusation tears at him, all the way down to the base of his heart. "I can hardly recognize you, 'dara-sama." Her breath is frigid on his neck. He cannot breathe.

"It's almost like, you're a—" _Monster_

His hands move without his consent.

Her blood stains the grass.

* * *

He sits bolt upright in bed, suddenly breathless, gasping for air that doesn't seem to reach his lungs. There is so much blood, so much blood, why is it so _dark—_

"Madara-sama?"

So dark, so dark, the moon can't illuminate his hands, why is it so—

"Madara-sama!"

Was he shaking?

He didn't know that until her hands clasp his shoulders to steady him. "What's wrong?"

So his nightmare took an unexpected turn. It has rubbed him raw, turned him inside out — he feels so _bruised._

He fears her judgement, fears her scorn, fears that one day he will reach out and find nothing, that there will be a day she does not reach back.

How does he explain this? This when it is all that he has ever feared. "It's nothing." Is what he settles for, voice small in the dark that still presses all around them. "A dream, is all."

She frowns, her breath warm against his jaw as she leans her head against his shoulder. "A nightmare?"

No he should've known she wouldn't be satisfied with the little he has chosen to say.

But how can he say more? _If you knew what these hands have done, how could you look at me the same?_

He fears her judgement. Fears that she will know what he has done and condemn him for it.

He cards a hand through her hair, and for the moment pulls her close.

He is still shaking, something of a chill that refuses to leave him. "Ah." He can offer her nothing more than that.

She hums, one small hand cupping his face, fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw and it feels so much like ash. _Would you still touch me like this if you know what I've done?_

"You don't have to tell me." She says suddenly, muffling a small yawn as she does. "But I will always listen if you want to tell me." _There is no judgement here._ He hears it in the space between her words, in the soft silence that falls when she is done, but his tongue, formerly so eager to spill all his secrets is leaden in his mouth.

He says nothing.

For the rest of the night he does not dream.

He stares up at the beams in the ceiling until the moon sets and the sun rises.

* * *

The events of the past night has shaken him, and even in the light of day he cannot shake off the scent of blood on him, the feeling of hands stained and sticky.

It is only fair that Hashirama notes that his mood has changed, because when they break for lunch, he does not head in the direction of home. "Mada!" Hashirama calls out after him. "Come to lunch with me?"

Tobirama, who'd gone on ahead pauses for a beat, but continues on without them.

"I'm not hungry." He brushes past Hashirama on his way back into the tower office. "Eat without me."

Hashirama catches him by the shoulder, suddenly firm without a hint of the charmingly goofy air he so often exuded. "Madara, you've been pale and withdrawn all day. Did something happen at home?"

Strange then, that Hashirama never noticed the shifts in his mood until now. Pale and withdrawn could've described him on any number of days within the past three years. "Is that out of the ordinary?" He asks, voice dry as winter's wind.

"Well...no." Hashirama rallies himself a moment later. "But Tobi took at least three swipes at you during our discussion of training ground allotments today and you said _nothing._ Even if you aren't in a good mood normally you'd still at least…" _Have another screaming match in front of e where I'd need to pull you two apart._ The second half of the sentence goes unsaid, but not unthought of between the two of them. "And now you don't even want to go to lunch. You love food. I know you do. So there is something wrong with you, and you are going to spit it out right now."

Having said his piece, Hashirama falls silent, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"Truly an insurmountable amount of evidence, Hashirama." He turns to face his best friend fully for the first time during the conversation. Good heavens, he looks so worried. _In the two years where I burned myself down, you never looked at me like this._ "Why don't you just go to lunch."

"Because the look on your face scares me, Mada."

"The God of Shinobi." He drawls, and god he is so _tired._ "Scared of a face."

"Will you stop trying to push me away?" Hashirama blocks his pathway forward and refuses to let him by. "I'm only trying to help."

"You can't _help_ this."

No one can help what's already been done. The truth will out eventually.

The truth will out eventually, and he _will_ lose what he loves all over again.

"How will I know if I can or if I can't unless you tell me?" His best friend is mule-headed stubborn and thick skinned like a rock. This was all well and good when Hashirama was determined to make mountains move so that they could have their village and live in it too, but is significantly more troubling when _he's_ the enemy at stake here. "If it's not something I can help then I'll concede."

That's only what Hashirama thinks will happen. For as long as he's known the Senju, Hashirama has _never_ conceded, not when it mattered to him.

" _I_ know that you can't do anything about it."

"Have it your way then." Hashirama sighs. "For now. Don't think this is over, Mada. I will make you see sense eventually."

When Hashirama leaves the office, still casting worried looks over his shoulder, Madara collapses into a chair and buries his face in his hands.

His hands that still stink of blood and broken promises, that seem sticky with blood he could never wash off and if he's not careful, he can still _see it._

 _The sharingan does not forget._

 _An Uchiha who has awakened the sharingan will never forget._

 _He_ cannot forget, cannot forgive and cannot move on.

Achingly, he picks up the next piece of paper — an ordinary guard job mission — eyes glazing over the hastily scribbled report as he tries and fails to not think about the previous night.

 _Why did I—_

Even in his mind, he can hardly bear to think of it.

In his dreams, he had her blood on his hands.

But why?

In these waking hours, he is certain even if her eyes had turned so cold with judgement he would not have—

Would not have—

So why?

Why had he dreamed of such a thing?

* * *

"Uchiha-san, do you have a moment?"

It hasn't been long certainly, not long since he started staring at this piece of paper with no intention of actually reading it with any level of comprehension.

He raises his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Uzumaki-san?"

Uzumaki Mito is standing in the doorway of the office, slowly folding the fur cloak Hashirama had probably foisted on her before she stepped foot out the door despite the claims that Kanae's made about the Konoha winter being far less severe than an Uzu one.

He had reminded himself that he ought not visit Uzu in the winter then, but this, this is inconsequential.

"Why did my sister decide to marry you?"

The question freezes the breath in his lungs. _She doesn't know._

Quickly on the heels of the first thought follows the second. _She never would have agreed to this if she did know._

 _What_ does he say?

"She made a choice." And that choice led her to a man who is so afraid of her judgement that he could not even explain himself. She'd signed her life away for this.

"She made a choice." Mito does not sound impressed. "Would you mind telling me why my baby sister decided on this particular _choice_ , Uchiha-san?"

His breath rattles as he exhales. "Do you think I forced her?" Has his reputation really gotten so black as to — _child murder._ The voice in his mind whispers, poison dripping from every word. _You murdered children._

 _What is forcing a woman to marry you any different?_

He had not.

They'd gone over this so many times before.

But was it really a choice when her people were starving and her father had made rice her bride price.

Was it really a choice when it was made out of desperation?

"I don't know what to think from the way you look." Mito folds her hands together on the table between them. "But I'm willing to let you explain, so think carefully." There is something very hard in her dark brown eyes. "I want to know exactly who I need to skin."

His ever tripping tongue has been frozen by the winter, frozen by the howling in his heart.

He can think of nothing to say.

"Think exactly what you want to think, Uzumaki-san." And he is so _tired._ So hollow inside despite the ice last night has made of his inner thoughts. "I cannot stop you.

Mito frowns, hard, her lips set into the downturned line as though carved from rock face.

"Do you want to know what I have heard then?" She says, her shoulders straight and her eyes steely. "I heard from Touka that there's a certain document you signed with my father." She continues without bothering to hear his answer.

"A marriage contract." One with stipulations, but a marriage contract all the same.

"I heard in this contract that my father named a price." She leans in closer. "You _bought_ my sister like she was some pretty thing in the marketplace. She might be worth so little to you, but she is not worth so little to me."

What is his wife _worth_ to him?

"You know nothing of what Kanae means to me." He might have bought her, taken advantage of how desperate she was to save her people but that does not mean—

It does not mean that she is no more than an object in his eyes, does not mean that she is not — hope, light and water — that she does not mean _nothing_ to him because…

She'd looked at him and seen a man. Not a monster or a god or a clan head or an Uchiha or a leader.

Just a man.

And it had been worth _so much._

They are at an impasse now, he and Uzumaki Mito, for she will not leave without hearing what she wants to hear.

She opens her mouth to continue, but suddenly the door swings open, and Kanae is shaking snow off of her red hair. It has been an unusually snowy winter after a dry fall.

"Oh, Neesan, I didn't realize you were here as well," she chirps, brighter than she normally is. "I was just about to tell 'dara-sama that he should come home because the snow is setting in too thick and the streets won't be cleared in time. I didn't want him to get snowed in you know."

Before either he or Mito can say another word, she hustles him out of his seat and down the hall. "You should go home soon too, Neesan!" She calls over her shoulder. "Inami says that it will be very had to walk home soon."

* * *

The snow is indeed coming down thick and fast when they pause at the threshold. "You didn't bring a coat with you this morning." She sighs. "We will have to walk quickly then."

He unsticks the clogged feeling in his throat and his frozen tongue. "Why did you come?"

"Why wouldn't I have come to get you?" She opens her umbrella and loops an arm through his. "There's no food in the Tower, you would've starved if you stayed snowed in."

He is supposed to protest here, to tease and say that she is clearly attempting to fatten him for _something_ but he doesn't.

He doesn't because Mito's words are still ringing in his ears. _You bought my sister like she was some pretty thing in the marketplace._

 _Did I?_

He has always wondered.

" — say to you?"

"What?"

"What did my sister say to you?" She huffs slightly, as they step into the foyer of the house. She brushes a bit of snow off of his shoulder and frowns. "I do hope you're not going to get sick again." She muses, more to herself than to him. "I don't know what happened."

"She knows." Is all he says. Today every word is a boulder that refuses to be pushed up and out into the world.

So strange now that in keeping one secret he can't speak of anything else anymore either.

"Knows what?" Kanae's frown deepens. "Madara-sama, you've made no sense since last night."

So she remembers that he didn't say anything last night.

"She knows why you're here." He cannot delay the inevitable. He cannot halt the tide. The truth will always reveal itself.

Perhaps it would be better to tell her himself than to have her hear it from someone else. She would inevitably hear it from someone else.

He would rather...would rather know when the judgement starts that be blindsided by it.

"I thought Neesan always knew I was married." Kanae blinks at him bemusedly from across the kitchen table. "It would be rather strange if she did not, seeing as she was _there_ for the cerem…" She trails off. "Oh," she says in a small voice. "You mean she learned about the contract."

Wordlessly, he nods.

"Well that is unfortunate." Kanae's frown deepens further. "I wonder who told her." Something about the way she says this promises pain for whoever dared to tell Uzumaki Mito about the whole affair. "Still, she was going to learn about it eventually."

The truth will always out.

"There's something I have to tell you." He stares at his clasped hands because it is easier than looking her in the eye. "About last night." _About the past. About memory._

About himself.

* * *

 **A.N.** In which it begins in fluff, takes a deep turn into uncomfortable and unhappy, and we don't resurface. There are fun times on the horizon!

I am so grateful for all the support this story has gotten, especially for Enbi's kind words and encouragement. Without them this chapter would've taken far far longer than it did.

And as a small side note, I now have a discord! If you'd like to check us out the link is on my profile!

~Tavina


	19. Sun Behind Clouds

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Beta'd by Fishebake**

* * *

"If I told you about the darkness inside of me

would you still look at me like I'm the sun?"

— Harman Kaur

* * *

She sits down on the other side of the table, her hands clasped together before her. There's only concern in her eyes...concern for him.

It will go soon. It will. It has too, but that doesn't mean he does not…

Does not wish that it _won't._

His tongue is heavy. This truth has to out, but he does not want it to.

"About, last night…" He does not know how to begin, does not know _when_ to begin, but this will have to do. The truth will out. Better that it be soon, like ripping the bandage off an old wound rather than let it fester. "It wasn't a nightmare." Or well...it was not entirely a nightmare. "It's a memory."

Her eyes still hold only concern.

 _When will it end?_ Holding himself like this on the edge of the knife blade is worse than the inevitable bleeding.

He half wishes to see it gone with only judgement and disgust left in its wake.

"A memory?" She comes around the table, takes one of his hands in hers. She feels so warm, as though her care could melt this chill. "Tell me about it?" she asks.

The air feels colder than his lungs, as though he has already frozen over. "I am… what they say about me is true."

Oh, not everything they say is true, but they are right to fear him.

Such a little thing it is really, memory. But his are memories that never fade. His are crimes never washed away. He teeters on a knife's edge of instability, lean too far one way and he shall fall off the cliff.

"That's a lie." She's leaning against the table, a hand tilts his chin up so that they are eye to eye, face to face, soul to soul. "They say one of these days, you shall rip out my eyes because they are so very pretty." Her touch is warm.

Like sleep to the freezing, the slightest hint of tenderness and he has lost it all.

Such a little thing it is, touch that does not wound, but he has almost forgotten how it felt before her.

"They were innocent." He tells her. "More so than you."

He has heard the rumors of what the Viper has done, does not quite believe that they describe the same woman who leans here against his kitchen table, his face in her hands, but he knows she is no stranger to death.

All the innocence in the world in her eyes cannot make her entirely blameless.

He knows this.

"I killed them even so."

He has left a trail of blood and broken corpses in his wake, steeped in blood and the suffering of others. He has killed on orders, has killed to survive, has killed to save others, has killed simply because he could see no other path.

What right does he have to pretend at peace and comfort?

What right does he have to this life of plenty and joy?

No, if there is a scale to balance, if the gods were righteous, he would have died on the battlefield long ago. If the gods were righteous they would never have given him this.

"Who did you kill that makes you fear telling me so?" There is still no judgement in her green eyes, only a terrible sort of sadness. "Do you think I will cease to love you because your hands are bloody with those who did not deserve to die?"

 _Cease to— love._

 _Love._

 _Love._

 _She._

 _Loves._

 _She loves._

 _Me._

He breathes out.

This, this too must go.

Nothing gold can stay.

"Children." He sounds so far away, so cold, so frozen through. "Would you like a list?"

He does not want to make a list, doesn't, ah but…

But if she wants to know.

Who is he to deny her?

"Of course not." She pulls him close, a hand in his hair, a hand against his jaw. "Dara-sama?" It is so warm. "You're shaking."

Is he? "You stayed." She is so real, solid beneath his palms, this close he can feel the beat of her heart, the rise and fall of her every breath.

"Of course I do." She smooths his hair away from his face, hands assured, heartbeat even. "I will not leave you. Not over this."

 _No?_ They stay like this, he doesn't know for how long, her hand stroking circles between his shoulder blades, his hair pushed to one side.

 _How do you let me touch you with these hands?_

They are sticky, heavy with the blood he shed long ago. If he had known, if he had known that one day he'd come to this, that he would fear telling someone about this history— _would I still have…_

"How do you let me touch you with mine?" She sounds...sad. "If your hands are bloody, so too are mine. Shouldn't you fear me?"

He does not know who she has killed to make her so sad. "I…"

 _Because I trust you._ He wants to say. _Because my heart drowns without you._

 _Because you have been the support holding me upright, because your unwavering faith kept me alive, because you have made me so very happy…_

 _Because I know you are kind._

He says none of these.

No his mind still lingers, lingers on the words she had so casually let slip from her lips. _Do you think I will cease to love you?_

To cease, one has to begin.

"I trust you." Is all he says in the end. He trusts those same hands that are still tangled in his hair, trusts the truth of her words, trusts that she will stay.

She should not, but she has.

"Mmm," she sighs. "Can I tell you a story, Madara-sama?"

He makes no response, so she continues onwards, voice soft. "Once long ago, in the years of my father's youth, Uzu marched to war. My grandfather died on these shores long before you were even born. I don't know if you've heard this story."

Has he heard of this? Only peripherally. "I don't know it well, no."

"My grandfather wasn't a young man by then." She sighs. "And he lost his life in battle to a clan that no longer exists."

"I fail to make the connection." This bit of family history is interesting, but he does not understand it. She has not cared to tell him about this before.

"The Aguda Clan no longer exists because my father ordered them drown in their beds." Her hands are still now. Her voice cold and hard like the stars above. "Every man, woman, and child died when Uzu's armies marched through their settlement. Even now, the fields in that part of the mainland are barren." _So salted that they will grow nothing, s_ he does not say. "My own father gave the order. How many children do you think he's killed?"

He has sat across the table from Uzumaki Ashina before, had thought him a kindly king, hadn't thought he'd be capable of such deeds. And yet, and yet, it seems that he _was_ capable.

"If I can still love my father, if I can still love Niisama, if I can still love my friends, if I can still love myself, why can I not love you still despite your bloody hands?" She smooths his hair away from his face. "Why should I fear your darkness when you do not fear mine?"

He catches one of her hands, small and smooth without a single scar across the palms or fingers. "And how many innocents have you killed, Kanae?"

What horrors has she seen to call herself dark?

"Would you like a list?" She lightly turns his own words back at him. "I am not half so kind nor so good as you think."

He breathes out, long and slow, and something settles within him, between them, something finally righting itself at last. "But you are good to me."

He can almost feel her smile. "As you are to me," she agrees. "And it is enough."

Is it enough?

It is enough.

One thing righted between them. So many more to go. "And your sister?" he asks. "What will you tell her?"

"Only the truth if she cares to ask me for it," she says. "I don't know why she went to accuse you before she came to ask me."

 _Does Uzumaki Mito trust her own sister?_

"She loves you." Is all he finds to say. "She loves you, and she fears for your safety." It has always been like this, ever since Kanae first came to Konoha.

He still remembers Mito's first threat. _Hurt my sister and die._

"And I love her and would defend her." She thinks on this for a long moment. "But I love you and would defend you. I do not know why she cannot believe that."

He breathes out. _I love you._

 _I love you._

A promise if nothing else. "And I you."

Three words is all he can give her.

* * *

The storm that blows through that night does in fact, leave them snowed in. It is a little thing, given that there is plenty of food in the house and they need only wait for the next slightly warmer spell to thaw the snow.

What it does do, is prevent Uzumaki Mito from visiting him again. Or well, it does, for a day or so.

If not wanting to meet his sister-in-law makes him a coward, then he can only be called that. A coward. He'd never flinched from battle, but he flinches from this. Words can wound; words can heal, and he is overcome and bad at both.

So lucky he is to have married a woman so good at both. The gods smiled upon him with that.

If he is hiding by practicing his kata in the back courtyard, well, it is because he is a coward.

A punch. A kick. A block. Turn. Sweep. Spin. Snow flies up all around him. Sweat drips from his brow. His breath hangs in white clouds in the air.

He may not like to fight, to kill, to wound, to break, but necessity can persuade one of many things. He does not like to kill, but he is still so damn good at it that dwelling too long on it will break his heart.

Necessity had provided.

He merely bent to its wishes.

Two punches, another sweep, the turn bringing him face to face with his sister-in-law who is sitting on the walkway, a thick woolen cloak about her shoulders. She is watching him, her face inscrutable.

They stare at each other, he completely dumbfounded and she something else entirely.

"I'm here to offer you an apology." There are words coming out of her mouth but he doesn't understand a single one of them.

"What?"

"An apology."

He still can't read a single thing from her face, and at this point, he is half afraid to understand any of it.

"Why?"

"Because I accused you of terrible things." Mito gestures to the space beside her. "And I am not unhappy to be wrong."

Woodenly, he does end up sitting next to her, looking out over the sad scene winter has made of his back courtyard. There's a thin layer of ice over the well and a layer of frost over the cherry sapling.

"There's no need to apologize." Oh, would you look at that. His tongue has unfrozen just enough for this that he trips on into explanations and fragments of thoughts and all sorts of sad unimportant things. "Kanae would forgive you even without it."

And she would, she _would_ forgive her sister even if she holds firm now, and Madara would never hold that against her. It is a terrible thing to lose a sibling, and he would never wish it on anyone. Much less this when it would be a conscious _choice_.

"I'm not here to talk to you because Kanae wanted me to." Mito sighs, her hands still clasped in her lap. "I'm here because I made a mistake, and I hope to correct it."

 _She shouldn't be out here in the cold._ The child's birth is merely two short months off now.

And while he doubts that Uzumaki Mito would care to be called delicate, there is no reason to force her to sit here in the cold just because he is too much of a coward.

Her child. Hashirama's child.

His...niece or nephew.

It is strange to think of the situation as such, for he has never thought to call either Hashirama or Tobirama — _brother._

But it is true, if only by marriage. Kanae's niece or nephew would be a child welcome in his house and welcome in his heart.

She has been here for a while, if the slight blue tinge of her lips is any indication.

He rises and offers her his arm. "There is not much that we share." He almost sighs, the words he chooses with care working equally bad as the words he flings into the world without any care paid to them. "But trust that we share this at the very least."

He cannot offer her forgiveness exactly.

He cannot say that it matters not, and erase all that was said between them.

He cannot say that he will forget it all, because his mind is riddled with memories pass that try as he might he cannot forget or forgive.

But he can let it go.

He can face forward and not look back.

So that is what he offers Uzumaki Mito instead.

"I will." Mito sets a hand on his arm and lets him help her up. "I will."

It sounds just as much a promise as it does a threat. Maybe that's just everything she says.

Maybe he's bad at reading between the lines, but he rather thinks that he could learn not to mind it.

* * *

Hashirama stops him on a cold winter day in mid-February. "Mada."

"Hmm?" He's been busy at home these past few days, painting door panels and simply _being._ It has been a long time since he's had the time to just _be._ Without expectations, without deadlines, without missions, without it being just a break from fighting and killing once more.

"Let's go for a drink." Hashirama smiles. "For old time's sake."

He stares at Hashirama for a long moment, wondering when he stopped feeling nauseous about the crinkles around Hashirama's eyes.

Was it the moment he heard Kanae say _I love you_ and all he could offer her was _And I you?_ Was it before?

"On me!" His best friend leans back against the front of his desk, fingers tapping against the wood and Madara feels…

He doesn't know exactly. His heart no longer stutters with every ounce of attention Hashirama pays him now.

That's new. That's new, but it's not bad.

It seems that his heart has given up on ever having Hashirama's affections.

Did he ever want Hashirama to love him? And was it Hashirama's love that he wanted, or just simply — _I wanted you to see me for what I am, until I realized that you never would and that I didn't even know myself._

When put that way, it's really rather sad.

He wants to say no, but when has he ever been able to say no to Hashirama? Still, if they're going to drink in public, he's unlikely to make a fool of himself like last time.

He's also...less sad.

Every breath is cleaner now. Fresher than he's felt it in years.

Maybe it's the snowfall, maybe it's himself.

Everything seems slightly newer now.

"Well, let's go then." He rises from his chair. "I'm wanted at home for dinner."

He's wanted at home for many things, but Izuna has the shogi board set for him, Setsuna has the year's accounts, and Kanae, Kanae likely has another bouquet of outlandish flowers and much she wants to say.

Their conversations are always thought provoking.

"I'm glad!" Hashirama bounces off of his desk and towards the door.

It's easy to follow Hashirama out the door. It's easy, but no longer as mindless as before.

He will be home for dinner.

As it turns out, Hashirama's invited him because…

Well.

It suffices to say that while he's seen Hashirama exuberant, and he's seen Hashirama despondent, he's never seen Hashirama quite... _both at the same time._

Nervously chattery and despondent.

Excitement boarding on mania.

"And I have no idea how — Mada, how am I supposed to — I've never been good at —"

Make that excessive mania.

This unintelligible garble of sentences makes less sense the longer Hashirama's been drinking.

"I think you need to tell me one thing at a time." He has no ability to give advice about whatever crazy idea Hashirama's run off with now, but he has even less ability to get a word in edgewise when he doesn't even know what Hashirama's thinking about.

"My son." Hashirama slumps against the table, tipping from mania into despondence in the space of a moment. "My _son_. I have no words—"

Madara's breath hitches in his throat. "There's nothing wrong is there?"

There's less than three weeks before the child's due.

In the moment before Hashirama replies, his mind has already spun through a thousand unfortunate paths, a hundred thousand tragedies.

 _Kanae will be heartbroken._

"No, no, no. Dear Kami, I'd actually go out of my mind." Hashirama scrubs a hand over his face, pale even beneath his tan. "No no, the medics have said that everything is proceeding well."

Madara nearly sags in relief, but he catches himself, picks up his sake cup instead, hands still slightly shaky. "Then would you mind telling me what your problem happens to be?"

"I don't know how to be a father."

When he raises his eyes from his cup, Hashirama's face is turned away.

"I, my father and I—"

"Could never see eye to eye." Madara finishes the sentence for him.

Uchiha Tajima had loved him, had loved all his sons. Madara knows this. But he had died too young, been too much a part of the old world, could never see eye to eye, could never believe in peace.

Perhaps Senju Butsuma had been the same.

"No. We never could." Something far heavier than merely disagreement weighs down each word from Hashirama's mouth, weighs in the shuttered look in his eyes, the closed nature of his features.

"You're afraid." It's simple to see now that he's looking for it. Despite how their hearts had missed each other like two ships passing in fog, there was no one else who shared his dream besides Hashirama. The friendship they have is worn down like a comfortable pair of boots, broken in like a gunbai chipped about the corners. They've survived too much, survived too much shared history to be blind to some things.

"What if." Here Hashirama pauses, sake forgotten by his elbow, a smile so sad it might as well be broken on his lips. "What if, I'm just like him?"

There's… so much more here than merely… argument.

He had argued with his father in the past, and there are bad memories, but there are also good ones.

 _When I am a father…_ and he has thought of this more often these last few months. _I would not like to be entirely unlike my own._

 _But Hashirama…_

That pale face, lips drawn so tight that they almost disappear into a flat line, shaking hands…

"You're nothing like him." This is all Madara can give him really. "You won't be like him."

"How do you _know?_ " Hashirama casts him a look and all he can see is his best friend drowning under waves and waves of self doubt. "How do you _know?_ "

How does he know? He knows because Hashirama is not a man to ambush an enemy to kill him, sending a child home with eyes that bleed and bragging about it with his men afterwards.

He knows because Senju Butsuma had been overcome with hatred and Hashirama had offered only hands of friendship even after being slapped away again and again and again.

He knows because Hashirama had never let the darkness in this world corrupt his hope.

"Because I know who you are." And here he tips into darkness with only a guess. "And you are not the type of man who would hurt a child no matter how rebellious." No, Hashirama had only wished for peace, wished for a world where children could be children no matter how misbehaving.

Hashirama strangles a sob. "You are the dearest friend in the whole wide world."

And if he sits there as Hashirama sobs into his shoulder and walks his drunken friend home later, well no one needs to know.

He makes it home in time for dinner.

* * *

That night after dinner, after his game of shogi with Izuna, after the moon has risen and the stars were lit, he pulls the pins from Kanae's hair, setting each one on the dresser table beside her hand.

They'd gone shopping in the market a week ago. There's a carved figurine of a cat chasing a carved mouse on one side of the mirror and a fish on the other.

Alas, Kanae could _not_ find a cat chasing a fish and thus had to _settle._

He has no idea why she would want one of those. No. Not at all.

"If you had a child, would you want to be a mother like your mother?" He doesn't really know Uzumaki Naokano, can't entirely place what sort of woman his mother-in-law is to have raised two daughters who are different as night and day despite how similar they may look.

"Mmm." Kanae tilts her head to one side, locks of hair falling over each other in waves smooth as silk. "I don't think so."

"Why?" There are no more pins. Her hair is free.

His hands find her shoulders instead.

His work here is done, but he doesn't want to step away, so he doesn't.

"Well, I rather think that we are not very much like my parents at all." She lays a small hand over his own, and they stay like that for a time. "And I don't think I would want much to be them." There's no sadness here, nothing she regrets, no bad memories that she's clung to because they were her only memories.

No, this is nothing like what Hashirama feared.

"My parents are friends." She says softly. "Their love died a long time ago."

So that is what it is.

"And you do not want our love to die."

No, this love is still fragile in its newness, tender, young, not yet spoken of without some form of thrill surrounding it.

She turns to look up at him, a slight pout on her lips. "Of course not."

He could get used to this too, of speaking of love.

He has never spoken of love with anyone else before, always buried his feelings for Hashirama, had not exactly loved anyone else he has bedded, but he can speak of it now. It tastes sweeter than he had expected.

He muffles a laugh. "Of course not." He leans forward and presses a kiss to her temple. "Pretend I did not say that. It was badly put."

She pokes his nose. "I shall have to be very cross at you for it."

At this he can no longer contain himself. "Ah, but if you are cross with me…"

She turns her face away from him, a frown on her lips, a laugh in her eyes. "I shall have to revise my statement." She says, her arms crossed over her chest. There is so much mischief in this, so much to laugh at, though he doesn't dare to at the moment. "Make that, I am certain we are not much like my parents for my husband is great and terrible and shall not be crossed."

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, laughing. "I shall have to remind you not to cross me."

"O great and terrible husband." She is smiling now, on the verge of bursting into giggles any second now. "How shall I be reminded?"

"Well I think." He cups her face with a hand. "You owe me a kiss for such terrible slander, _wife._ "

* * *

 **A.N.** Is this fluff? Is this angst? The only thing I can say about this is that it's Madara.

I got a new job and moved back to school, so it's been quite hectic for the past week or so. Hopefully my schedule will settle down into some semblance of normality soon!

Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, followed and favorited. It means a lot to me.

~Tavina


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